Ideals 


Cibrarp  of  Che  Cheolo^ical  ^eminarp 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 

PRESENTED  BY 

The  Estate  of 

Professor  Walter  M.  Rankin 


C  or 


ARISTOTLE 


’£\xc  05vrat  gtlxtcaiovs 

Edited  by  NICHOLAS 


ARISTOTLE 


AND 


ANCIENT  EDUCATIONAL  IDEALS 


BY 

THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

/ 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER’S  SONS 
1892 


COPYRIGHT,  1892,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER’S  SONS, 


> 

. 


I 


\ 


I 


'  .  f 


ERRATA. 


♦ 


Page  19,  line  5  from  below,  insert  102. 


53,  “ 

6 

a 

181,  “ 

« 

250,  « 

11 

« 

“  “  133. 

M  for  “  and  ”  read  “  or.” 

“  “  Watsno  ”  read  “  Watson.” 


I 


PREFACE 


In  undertaking  to  treat  of  Aristotle  as  the  ex¬ 
pounder  of  ancient  educational  ideas,  I  might,  with 
Kapp’s  Aristoteles ’  Staatspaedagogik  before  me,  have 
made  my  task  an  easy  one.  I  might  simply  have 
presented  in  an  orderly  way  and  with  a  little  com¬ 
mentary,  what  is  to  be  found  on  the  subject  of  educa¬ 
tion  in  his  various  works  —  Politics,  Ethics,  Rhetoric, 
Poetics,  etc.  I  had  two  reasons,  however,  for  not 
adopting  this  course:  (1)  that  this  work  had  been 
done,  better  than  I  could  do  it,  in  the  treatise  referred 
to,  and  (2)  that  a  mere  restatement  of  what  Aristotle 
says  on  education  would  hardly  have  shown  his  rela¬ 
tion  to  ancient  pedagogy  as  a  whole.  I  therefore 
judged  it  better,  by  tracing  briefly  the  whole  history 
of  Greek  education  up  to  Aristotle  and  down  from 
Aristotle,  to  show  the  past  which  conditioned  his  theo¬ 
ries  and  the  future  which  was  conditioned  by  them. 
Only  thus,  it  seemed  to  me,  could  his  teachings  be 
seen  in  their  proper  light.  And  I  have  found  that  this 
method  has  many  advantages,  of  which  I  may  mention 
one.  It  has  enabled  me  to  show  the  close  connection 
that  existed  at  all  times  between  Greek  education 
and  Greek  social  and  political  life,  and  to  present  the 


VI 


PREFACE 


one  as  the  reflection  of  the  other.  And  this  is  no 
small  advantage,  since  it  is  just  from  its  relation  to 
the  whole  of  life  that  Greek  education  derives  its 
chief  interest  for  us.  We  can  never,  indeed,  return 
to  the  purely  political  education  of  the  Greeks ;  they 
themselves  had  to  abandon  that,  and,  since  then, 

A  boundless  hope  has  passed  across  the  earth  — 

a  hope  which  gives  our  education  a  meaning  and  a 
scope  far  wider  than  any  that  the  State  aims  at ;  but 
in  these  days,  when  the  State  and  the  institution 
which  embodies  that  hope  are  contending  for  the 
right  to  educate,  it  cannot  but  aid  us  in  settling  their 
respective  claims,  to  follow  the  process  by  which  they 
came  to  have  distinct  claims  at  all,  and  to  see  just 
what  these  mean.  This  process,  the  method  which  I 
have  followed  has,  I  hope,  enabled  me,  in  some  degree, 
to  bring  into  clearness.  This,  at  all  events,  has  been 
one  of  my  chief  aims. 

In  treating  of  the  details  of  Greek  educational  prac¬ 
tice,  I  have  been  guided  by  a  desire  to  present  only, 
or  mainly,  those  which  contribute  to  make  up  the 
complete  picture.  Tor  this  reason  I  have  omitted 
all  reference  to  the  training  for  the  Olympic  and 
other  games,  this  (so  it  seems  to  me)  being  no  essen¬ 
tial  part  of  the  system. 

It  would  have  been  easy  for  me  to  give  my  book  a 
learned  appearance,  by  checkering  its  pages  with  refer¬ 
ences  to  ancient  authors,  or  quotations,  in  the  original, 
from  them ;  but  this  has  seemed  to  me  both  unnecessary 
and  unprofitable  in  a  work  intended  for  the  general 
public.  I  have,  therefore,  preferred  to  place  at  the 


PREFACE 


vii 


heads  of  the  different  chapters,  in  English  mostly, 
such  quotations  as  seemed  to  express,  in  the  most 
striking  way,  the  spirit  of  the  different  periods  and 
theories  of  Greek  education.  Taken  together,  I  be¬ 
lieve  these  quotations  will  be  found  to  present  a  fairly 
definite  outline  of  the  whole  subject. 

In  conclusion,  I  would  say  that,  though  I  have  used 
a  few  modern  works,  such  as  those  of  Kapp  and  Gras- 
berger,  I  have  done  so  almost  solely  for  the  sake  of 
finding  references.  In  regard  to  every  point  I  believe 
I  have  turned  to  the  original  sources.  If,  therefore, 
my  conclusions  on  certain  points  differ  from  those  of 
writers  of  note  who  have  preceded  me,  I  can  only  say 
that  I  have  tried  to  do  my  best  with  the  original 
materials  before  me.  I  am  far  from  flattering  my¬ 
self  that  I  have  reached  the  truth  in  every  case,  and 
shall  be  very  grateful  for  corrections,  in  whatever 
spirit  they  may  be  offered;  but  I  trust  that  I  have 
been  able  to  present  in  their  essential  features,  the 
-  “ancient  ideals  of  education.” 

THOMAS  DAVIDSON. 

“  Glenmore,” 

Keene,  Essex  Co.,  N.Y. 

October,  1891. 


.  . 


I 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Character  and  Ideal  of  Greek  Education  . 


CHAPTER  II. 

Branches  of  Greek  Education 


CHAPTER  III. 

Conditions  of  Education  . 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Subjects  of  Education 


CHAPTER  V. 

Education  as  Influenced  by  Time,  Place,  and  Cir¬ 
cumstances  . 


PAGE 


6 


9 


.  12 


15 


IX 


X 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  VI. 
Epochs  in  Greek  Education 


BOOK  II. 

THE  HELLENIC  PERIOD  (B.C.  776-338). 

Part  I. 

THE  “  OLD  EDUCATION ”  (b.c.  776-480). 

CHAPTER  I. 

Education  for  Work  and  Leisure  .... 

CHAPTER  II. 

iEoLiAN  or  Theban  Education . 

CHAPTER  III. 

Dorian  or  Spartan  Education  ...» 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Pythagoras  . 

CHAPTER  V. 

Ionian  or  Athenian  Education  .... 
(1)  Family  Education  . 


PAGE 
.  26 


.  33 

.  38 

.  41 

.  52 

.  60 
.  64 


CONTENTS  xi 

PAGE 

(2)  School  Education . 67 

% 

(a)  Musical  (and  Literary)  Education  .  72 

(/3)  Gymnastics,  or  Bodily  Training  .  .  77 

(7)  Dancing . 82 

(3)  College  Education . 85 

(4)  University  Education . 60 

Part  II. 

THE  “ NEW  EDUCATION ”  (b.c.  480-338). 

CHAPTER  I. 

Individualism  and  Philosophy  .  0  .  .  .  63 

CHAPTER  II. 

Xenophon . K4 

CHAPTER  III. 

Plato . 183 

BOOK  III. 

ARISTOTLE  (B.C.  384-322). 

CHAPTER  I. 


His  Life  and  Works 


153 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  II. 


His  Philosophy  . 


CHAPTER  III. 

His  Theory  op  the  State 


CHAPTER  IY. 

His  Pedagogical  State  . 


CHAPTER  V. 

Education  during  the  first  Seven  Years  . 


CHAPTER  YI. 

Education  from  Seven  to  Twenty-one 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Education  after  Twenty-one 


BOOK  IV. 

THE  HELLENISTIC  PERIOD  (B.C.  338-A.D. 

CHAPTER  I. 


PAGE 

.  161 


.  166 


.  172 


.  184 


.  188 


.  200 


313). 


From  Ethnic  to  Cosmopolitan  Life 


.  205 


CONTENTS 


xm 


CHAPTER  II. 

Quintilian  and  Rhetorical  Education  . 


PAGE 

.  214 


CHAPTER  III. 


Plotinus  and  Philosophic  Education  . 


©  © 


.  225 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Conclusion  . 


•  • 


•  9  O 


.  231 


APPENDIX. 


The  Seven  Liberal  Arts 


.  239 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


«  o  c 


.  249 


INDEX 


•  o  <,©•©©  ©  * 


253 


Book  I 


INTRODUCTORY 


ARISTOTLE 


CHAPTER  I 

CHARACTER  AND  IDEAL  OF  GREEK  EDUCATION 

Nothing  in  excess  !  —  Solon. 

No  citizen  has  a  right  to  consider  himself  as  belonging  to  him¬ 
self  ;  but  all  ought  to  regard  themselves  as  belonging  to  the  State, 
inasmuch  as  each  is  a  part  of  the  State ;  and  care  for  the  part  natu¬ 
rally  looks  to  care  for  the  whole.  —  Aristotle. 

Greek  life,  in  all  its  manifestations,  was  dominated 
by  a  single  idea,  and  that  an  aesthetic  one.  This  idea, 
which  worked  sometimes  consciously,  sometimes  un¬ 
consciously,  was  Proportion.  The  Greek  term  for 
this  (Logos)  not  only  came  to  designate  the  incarnate 
Word  of  Religion,  but  has  also  supplied  many  modern 
languages  with  a  name  for  the  Science  of  Manifested 
Reason  —  Logic.  To  the  Greek,  indeed,  Reason  always 
meant  ratio,  proportion ;  and  a  rational  life  meant  to 
him  a  life  of  which  all  the  parts,  internal  and  external, 
stood  to  each  other  in  just  proportion.  Such  propor¬ 
tion  was  threefold ;  first ,  between  the  different  parts 
of  the  individual  human  being ;  second,  between  the 
individual  and  his  fellows  in  a  social  whole;  third, 
between  the  human,  as  such,  and  the  overruling  divine. 

The  realization  of  this  threefold  harmony  in  the  indi- 

3 


4 


ARISTOTLE 


vidual  was  called  by  the  Greeks  Worth  (’A per^,  us¬ 
ually,  but  incorrectly,  rendered  Virtue).  There  has 
come  down  to  us,  from  the  pen  of  Aristotle,  in  whom 
all  that  was  implicit  in  Hellenism  became  explicit, 
a  portion  of  a  paean  addressed  to  this  ideal.  It  may 
be  fitly  inserted  here,  in  a  literal  translation. 

To  Worth. 

O  Worth  !  stern  taskmistress  of  human  kind, 

Life’s  noblest  prize : 

0  Virgin  !  for  thy  beauty’s  sake 

It  is  an  envied  lot  in  Hellas  even  to  die, 

And  suffer  toils  devouring,  unassuaged  — 

So  well  dost  thou  direct  the  spirit 
To  fruit  immortal,  better  than  gold 
And  parents  and  soft- eyed  sleep. 

For  thy  cause  Jove-born  Hercules  and  Leda’s  sons 
Much  underwent,  by  deeds 
Thy  power  proclaiming. 

For  love  of  thee  Achilles  and  Ajax  to  Hades’  halls  went  down. 
For  thy  dear  beauty’s  sake  Atarneus’  nursling  too  widowed  the 
glances  of  the  sun. 

Therefore,  as  one  renowned  for  deeds  and  deathless,  him  the 
Muses  shall  exalt, 

The  daughters  of  Memory,  exalting  so  the  glory  of  Stranger- 
guarding  Jove,  and  the  honor  of  friendship  firm. 

With  regard  to  this  ideal,  four  things  are  especially 
noteworthy  ;  first,  that  it  took  an  exhaustive  survey  of 
man’s  nature  and  relations ;  second,  that  it  called  for 
strong,  persistent,  heroic  effort ;  third,  that  it  tended  to 
sink  the  individual  in  the  social  whole  and  the  univer¬ 
sal  order ;  fourth,  that  its  aim  was,  on  the  whole,  a 
static  perfection.  The  first  two  were  merits;  the 
second  two,  demerits.  The  first  merit  prevented  the 


CHARACTER  OF  GREEK  EDUCATION 


5 


Greeks  from  pursuing  one-sided  systems  of  education  ; 
the  second,  from  trying  to  turn  education  into  a  means 
of  amusement.  Aristotle  says  distinctly,  “  Education 
ought  certainly  not  to  be  turned  into  a  means  of 
amusement ;  for  young  people  are  not  playing  when 
they  are  learning,  since  all  learning  is  accompanied 
with  pain.”  The  first  demerit  was  prejudicial  to  indi¬ 
vidual  liberty,  and  therefore  obstructive  of  the  highest 
human  development ;  the  second  encouraged  Utopian 
dreams,  which,  being  always  of  static  conditions,  un¬ 
disturbed  by  the  toils  and  throes  essential  to  progress, 
tend  to  produce  impatience  of  that  slow  advance  where¬ 
by  alone  man  arrives  at  enduring  results.  To  this 
tendency  we  owe  such  works  as  Plato’s  Republic  and 
Xenophon’s  Education  of  Cyrus. 


CHAPTER  II 


BRANCHES  OF  GREEK  EDUCATION 

With  thee  the  aged  car-borne  Peleus  sent  me  on  the  day  whereon 
from  Phthia  to  Agamemnon  he  sent  thee,  a  mere  boy,  not  yet  ac¬ 
quainted  with  mutual  war  or  councils,  in  which  men  rise  to  distinc¬ 
tion— for  this  end  he  sent  me  forth  to  teach  thee  all  these  things, 
to  he  a  speaker  of  words  and  a  doer  of  deeds.  — (Phoenix  in)  Homer. 

Above  all  and  by  every  means  we  provide  that  our  citizens  shall 
have  good  souls  and  strong  bodies.  —  Lucian. 

Life  is  the  original  school  —  life,  domestic  and 
social.  All  other  schools  merely  exercise  functions 
delegated  by  the  family  and  by  society,  and  it  is  not 
until  the  latter  has  reached  such  a  state  of  complication 
as  to  necessitate  a  division  of  labor  that  special  schools 
exist.  Among  the  Homeric  Greeks  we  find  no  men¬ 
tion  of  schools,  and  the  only  person  recorded  as  having 
had  a  tutor  is  Achilles,  who  was  sent  away  from  home 
so  early  in  life  as  to  be  deprived  of  that  education 
which  he  would  naturally  have  received  from  his 
father.  In  what  that  education  consisted,  we  learn 
from  the  first  quotation  at  the  head  of  this  chapter. 
It  consisted  in  such  training  as  would  make  the  pupil 
“a  speaker  of  words  and  a  doer  of  deeds  ”  — a  man 
eloquent  and  persuasive  in  council,  and  brave  and  res¬ 
olute  on  the  field  of  battle.  Eor  these  ends  he  required, 
as  Lucian  says,  a  good  soul  and  a  strong  body. 

These  expressions  mark  the  two  great  divisions  into 
which  Greek  education  at  all  periods  fell  —  Mental 
6 


BRANCHES  OE  GREEK  EDUCATION 


7 


Education  and  Physical  Education  —  as  well  as 
their  original  aims,  viz.  goodness  (that  is,  bravery) 
of  soul  and  strength  of  body.  As  time  went  on, 
these  aims  underwent  considerable  changes,  and  con¬ 
sequently  the  means  for  attaining  them  considerable 
modifications  and  extensions.  Physical  education 
aimed  more  and  more  at  beauty  and  grace,  instead  of 
strength,  while  mental  education,  in  its  effort  to  extend 
itself  to  all  the  powers  of  the  mind,  divided  itself  into 
literary  and  musical  education. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  Greeks  aimed  at  developing 
all  the  powers  of  the  human  being  in  due  proportion 
and  harmony.  But,  in  course  of  time,  they  discovered 
that  the  human  creature  comes  into  the  world  with 
his  powers,  not  only  undeveloped,  but  already  dis¬ 
ordered  and  inharmonious  ;  that  not  only  do  the  germs 
of  manhood  require  to  be  carefully  watched  and  tended, 
but  also  that  the  ground  in  which  they  are  to  grow 
must  be  cleared  from  an  overgrowth  of  choking  weeds, 
before  education  can  be  undertaken  with  any  hope  of 
success.  This  clearing  process  was  called  by  the  later 
Greeks  Katharsis ,  or  Purgation,  and  played  an  ever- 
increasing  part  in  their  pedagogical  systems.  It  was 
supposed  to  do  for  man’s  emotional  nature  what 
Medicine  undertook  to  do  for  his  body.  The  means 
employed  were  mainly  music  and  the  kindred  arts, 
which  the  ancients  believed  to  exert  what  we  should 
now  call  a  daemonic  effect  upon  the  soul,  drawing  off 
the  exciting  causes  of  disturbing  passion,  and  leaving 
it  in  complete  possession  of  itself.  It  would  hardly 
be  too  much  to  say  that  the  power  to  exert  this  purga¬ 
tive  influence  on  the  soul  was  regarded  by  the  ancients 


8 


ARISTOTLE 


as  the  chief  function  and  end  of  the  Fine  Arts.  Such 
was  certainly  Aristotle’s  opinion. 

When  purgation  and  the  twofold  education  of  body 
and  mind  had  produced  their  perfect  work,  the  result 
was  what  the  Greeks  called  Kalokagathia  ( KaXoKayaOta ) 
that  is,  Fair-and-Goodness.  Either  half  of  this  ideal 
was  named  aperr}  ( aret& ),  Worth  or  Excellence.  We 
are  expressly  told  by  Aristotle  ( Categories ,  chap, 
viii.)  that  the  adjective  to  apery  is  o-77-ovSatos  ( spou - 
daios),  a  word  which  we  usually  render  into  English 
by  “  earnest.”  And  we  do  so  with  reason  ;  for  to  the 
Greek,  Excellence  or  Worth  meant,  above  all,  earnest¬ 
ness,  genuineness,  truthfulness,  thoroughness,  absence 
of  frivolity. 


CHAPTER  III 


CONDITIONS  OF  EDUCATION 

Some  hold  that  men  become  good  by  nature,  others  by  training, 
others  by  instruction.  The  part  that  is  due  to  nature  obviously  does 
not  depend  upon  us,  but  is  imparted  through  certain  divine  causes 
to  the  truly  fortunate.  —  Aristotle. 

It  is  not  merely  begetting  that  makes  the  father,  but  also  the  im¬ 
parting  of  a  noble  education.  —  John  Chrysostom. 

There  are  two  sorts  of  education,  the  one  divine,  the  other  human. 
The  divine  is  great  and  strong  and  easy ;  the  human  small  and  weak 
and  beset  with  many  dangers  and  delusions.  Nevertheless,  the  latter 
must  be  added  to  the  former,  if  a  right  result  is  to  be  reached.  — 
Dion  Chrysostom. 

The  same  thing  that  we  are  wont  to  assert  regarding  the  arts  and 
sciences,  may  be  asserted  regarding  moral  worth,  viz.  that  the 
production  of  a  completely  just  character  demands  three  conditions 
—  nature,  reason,  and  habit.  By  “  reason  ”  I  mean  instruction,  by 
“habit,”  training.  .  .  .  Nature  without  instruction  is  blind;  in¬ 
struction  without  nature,  helpless ;  exercise  (training)  without  both, 
aimless.  —  Plutarch. 

To  the  realization  of  their  ideal  in  any  individual 
the  Greeks  conceived  three  conditions  to  be  necessary, 
(1)  a  noble  nature,  (2)  persistent  exercise  or  training 
in  right  action,  (3)  careful  instruction.  If  any  one 
of  these  was  lacking,  the  highest  result  could  not  be 
attained. 

(1)  To  be  well  or  nobly  born  was  regarded  by  the 
Greeks  as  one  of  the  best  gifts  of  the  gods.  Aristotle 
defines  noble  birth  as  “  ancient  wealth  and  worth,” 

and  this  fairly  enough  expresses  the  Greek  view 

9 


10 


ARISTOTLE 


generally.  Naturally  enough,  therefore,  the  Greek 
in  marrying  looked  above  all  things  to  the  chances  of 
a  worthy  offspring.  Indeed,  it  may  be  fairly  said 
that  the  purpose  of  the  Greek  in  marriage  was,  not 
so  much  to  secure  a  helpmeet  for  himself  as  to  find  a 
worthy  mother  for  his  children.  In  Greece,  as  every¬ 
where  else  in  the  ancient  world,  marriage  was  looked 
upon  solely  as  an  arrangement  for  the  procreation 
and  rearing  of  offspring.  The  romantic,  pathological 
love-element,  which  plays  so  important  a  part  in 
modern  match-making,  was  almost  entirely  absent 
among  the  Greeks.  What  love  there  was,  assumed 
either  the  noble  form  of  enthusiastic  friendship  or 
the  base  one  of  free  lust.  In  spite  of  this,  and  of 
the  fact  that  woman  was  regarded  as  a  means  and  not 
as  an  end,  the  relations  between  Greek  husbands  and 
wives  were  very  often  such  as  to  render  the  family 
a  school  of  virtue  for  the  children.  They  were  noble, 
sweet,  and  strong,  —  all  the  more  so,  it  should  seem, 
that  they  were  based,  not  upon  a  delusive  sentimen¬ 
tality,  but  upon  reason  and  a  sense  of  reciprocal  duty. 

(2)  The  value  of  exercise,  practice,  habituation, 
seems  to  have  been  far  better  understood  by  the  an¬ 
cients  than  by  the  moderns.  Whatever  a  man  has  to 
do,  be  it  speaking,  swimming,  playing,  or  fighting,  he 
can  learn  only  by  doing  it ;  this  was  a  universally  ac¬ 
cepted  maxim.  The  modern  habit  of  trying  to  teach 
languages  and  virtues  by  rules,  not  preceded  by  exten¬ 
sive  practice,  would  have  seemed  to  the  ancients  as 
absurd  as  the  notion  that  a  man  could  learn  to  swim 
before  going  into  the  water.  Practice  first ;  theory 
afterwards  :  do  the  deed,  and  ye  shall  know  of  the 


CONDITIONS  OF  EDUCATION 


11 


doctrine  —  so  said  ancient  Wisdom,  to  which  the  notion 
that  children  should  not  be  called  upon  to  perform 
any  act,  or  submit  to  any  restriction,  without  having 
the  grounds  thereof  explained  to  them,  would  have 
seemed  the  complete  inversion  of  all  scientific  method. 
It  was  by  insisting  upon  a  certain  practice  in  children, 
on  the  ground  of  simple  authority,  that  the  ancients 
sought  to  inculcate  the  virtues  of  reverence  for  expe¬ 
rience  and  worth,  and  respect  for  law. 

(3)  The  work  begun  by  nature,  and  continued  by 
habit  or  exercise,  was  completed  and  crowned  by  in¬ 
struction.  This  had,  according  to  the  Greek,  two  func¬ 
tions,  (a)  to  make  action  free,  by  making  it  rational, 
(6)  to  make  possible  an  advance  to  original  action. 
Nature  and  habit  left  men  thralls,  governed  by  in¬ 
stincts  and  prescriptions ;  instruction,  revelation  of 
the  grounds  of  action,  set  them  free.  Such  freedom, 
based  on  insight,  was  to  the  thinkers  of  Greece  the 
realization  of  manhood,  or  rather,  of  the  divine  in 
man.  “  The  truth  shall  make  you  free  ”  —  no  one 
understood  this  better  than  they.  Hence,  with  all 
their  steady  insistence  upon  practice  in  education, 
they  never  regarded  it  as  the  ultimate  end,  or  as  any 
end  at  all,  except  when  guided  by  insight,  the  fruit 
of  instruction.  A  practicality  leading  to  no  widening 
of  the  spiritual  horizon,  to  no  freeing  insight,  was  to 
them  illiberal,  slavish,  paltry  —  “  banausic/’  they  said, 
—  degrading  both  to  body  and  soul. 


CHAPTER  IV 


SUBJECTS  FOR  EDUCATION 

It  is  right  that  Greeks  should  rule  over  barbarians,  hut  not  bar¬ 
barians  over  Greeks ;  for  those  are  slaves,  hut  these  are  free  men. 
Euripides. 

Barbarian  and  slave  are  by  nature  the  same.  —  Aristotle. 

Nature  endeavors  to  make  the  bodies  of  freemen  and  slaves 
different ;  the  latter  strong  for  necessary  use,  the  former  erect  and 
useless  for  such  operations,  but  useful  for  political  life.  ...  It 
is  evident,  then,  that  by  nature  some  men  are  free,  others  slaves, 
and  that,  in  the  case  of  the  latter,  slavery  is  both  beneficial  and 
just.  — Id. 

Instruction,  though  it  plainly  has  power  to  direct  and  stimulate 
the  generous  among  the  young  ...  is  as  plainly  powerless  to  turn 
the  mass  of  men  to  nobility  and  goodness  (A ttloTicicjcithici).  For  it 
is  not  in  their  nature  to  be  guided  by  reverence,  but  by  fear,  nor  to 
abstain  from  low  things  because  they  are  disgraceful,  but  (only) 
because  they  entail  punishment.  —  Id. 

In  thinking  of  Greek  education  as  furnishing  a 
possible  model  for  us  moderns,  there  is  one  point 
which  it  is  important  to  bear  in  mind :  Greek  educa¬ 
tion  was  intended  only  for  the  few,  for  the  wealthy 
and  well-born.  Upon  all  others,  upon  slaves,  barba¬ 
rians,  the  working  and  trading  classes,  and  generally 
upon  all  persons  spending  their  lives  in  pursuit  of 
wealth  or  any  private  ends  whatsoever,  it  would  have 
seemed  to  be  thrown  away.  Even  well-born  women 
were  generally  excluded  from  most  of  its  benefits. 
The  subjects  of  education  were  the  sons  of  full  citi- 
12 


SUBJECTS  FOR  EDUCATION 


13 


zens,  themselves  preparing  to  be  full  citizens,  and  to 
exercise  all  the  functions  of  such.  The  duties  of  such 
persons  were  completely  summed  up  under  two  heads, 
duties  to  the  family  and  duties  to  the  State,  or,  as 
the  Greeks  said,  ceconomic  and  political  duties.  The 
free  citizen  not  only  acknowledged  no  other  duties 
besides  these,  but  he  looked  down  upon  persons  who 
sought  occupation  in  any  other  sphere.  (Economy  and 
Politics,  however,  were  very  comprehensive  terms. 
The  former  included  the  three  relations  of  husband  to 
wife,  father  to  children,  and  master  to  slaves  and 
property ;  the  latter,  three  public  functions,  legisla¬ 
tive,  administrative,  and  judiciary.  All  occupations 
not  included  under  these  six  heads  the  free  citizen 
left  to  slaves  or  resident  foreigners.  Money-making, 
in  the  modern  sense,  he  despised,  and,  if  he  devoted 
himself  to  art  or  philosophy,  he  did  so  only  for  the 
benefit  of  the  State.  If  he  improved  the  patrimony 
which  was  the  condition  of  his  free  citizenship,  he  did 
so,  not  by  chaffering  or  money-lending,  but  by  judi¬ 
cious  management,  and  by  kindly,  but  firm,  treatment 
of  his  slaves.  If  he  performed  any  great  artistic  ser¬ 
vice  to  the  State  —  for  example,  if  hes wrote  a  tragedy 
for  a  State  religious  festival  (and  plays  were  never 
written  for  any  other  purpose)  —  the  only  reward  he 
looked  forward  to  was  a  crown  of  olive  or  laurel  and 
the  respect  of  his  fellow-citizens. 

The  Greeks  divided  mankind,  in  all  the  relations 
of  life,  into  two  distinct  classes,  a  governing  and  a 
governed,  and  considered  the  former  alone  as  the  sub¬ 
ject  of  education;  the  latter  being  a  mere  instrument 
in  its  hands.  The  governing  class  required  education 


14 


ARISTOTLE 


in  order  that  it  might  govern  itself  and  the  other  class, 
in  accordance  with  reason  and  justice;  that  other,  re¬ 
ceiving  its  guidance  from  the  governing  class,  required 
no  education,  or  only  such  as  would  enable  it  to  obey. 
It  followed  that  the  duty  of  the  governing  class  was 
to  govern;  of  the  governed,  to  obey.  Only  in  this 
correlation  of  duties  did  each  class  find  its  usefulness 
and  satisfaction.  Any  attempt  to  disturb  or  invert 
this  correlation  was  a  wilful  running  in  the  teeth  of 
the  laws  of  nature,  a  rebellion  against  the  divine  order 
of  things. 

As  husband,  father,  master  in  the  family,  and  as 
legislator,  officer,  judge  in  the  State,  each  member  of 
the  governing  class  found  his  proper  range  of  activi¬ 
ties  ;  and  he  did  wrong,  degrading  himself  to  the  level 
of  the  serving  class,  if  he  sought  any  other.  This 
view,  in  a  more  or  less  conscious  form,  pervades  the 
whole  ancient  world,  conditioning  all  its  notions  and 
theories  of  education;  and  Paul  the  Apostle  only 
echoed  it  when  he  said  to  wives:  “Wives,  be  in  sub¬ 
jection  to  your  own  husbands  as  to  the  Lord  ” ;  to 
children :  “  Children,  obey  your  parents  in  the  Lord : 
for  this  is  right  ” ;  and  to  slaves :  “  Slaves,  be  obedient 
unto  them  that  according  to  the  flesh  are  your  masters 
with  fear  and  trembling,  in  singleness  of  heart,  as 
unto  Christ.” 


CHAPTER  Y 


EDUCATION  AS  INFLUENCED  BY  TIME,  PLACE,  AND 

CIRCUMSTANCES 

The  peculiar  character  of  each  form  of  government  is  what 
establishes  it  at  the  beginning  and  what  usually  preserves  it.  .  .  . 
Since  the  whole  State  has  but  one  end,  it  is  plainly  necessary  that 
there  should  be  one  education  for  all  the  citizens.  — Aristotle. 

Education  among  the  Greeks,  as  among  every  other 
progressive  people,  varied  with  times  and  circum¬ 
stances.  The  education  of  the  Homeric  Greeks  was 
not  that  of  the  Athenians  in  the  days  of  Aristotle,  nor 
the  latter  the  same  as  the  education  of  the  contem¬ 
porary  Spartans  or  Thebans.  Moreover,  the  educa¬ 
tion  actually  imparted  was  not  the  same  as  that 
demanded  or  recommended  by  philosophers  and  writers 
on  pedagogics.  It  is  true  that  the  aim  was  always 
the  same;  Worth,  Excellence,  Fair-and-Goodness 
(aperr/,  KaXonayaOta)  ;  but  this  was  differently  conceived 
and  differently  striven  after  at  different  times  and  in 
different  places. 

Among  the  Homeric  Greeks,  as  we  have  seen,  edu¬ 
cation,  being  purely  practical,  aiming  only  at  making 
its  subject  “a  speaker  of  words  and  a  doer  of  deeds,” 
was  acquired  in  the  actual  intercourse  and  struggles 
of  life.  The  simple  conditions  of  their  existence 
demanded  no  other  education  and,  consequently,  no 

special  educational  institutions.  These  conditions,  as 

15 


16 


ARISTOTLE 


described  by  Homer,  though  by  no  means  barbarous, 
are  primitive.  Nomadism  has  long  been  left  behind 
and  the  later  village-communities  have  been  mostly 
merged  in  walled  towns,  generally  situated  at  some 
distance  from  the  shore,  on  or  near  a  hill,  whose  sum¬ 
mit  forms  a  citadel  for  refuge  in  cases  of  danger. 
Even  in  the  most  advanced  of  these  towns,  however, 
the  type  of  civilization  is  still  largely  patriarchal. 
The  government  is  in  the  hands  of  chiefs  or  kings 
(pacnXrjes)  claiming  to  be  born  and  bred  of  Jove,  as, 
indeed,  in  a  sense,  they  were,  since  they  ruled  quite  as 
much  by  right  of  personal  worth,  which  more  than 
anything  is  due  to  the  grace  of  God,  as  by  hereditary 
title.  Worth  in  those  days  consisted  in  physical 
strength,  courage,  beauty,  judgment,  and  power  to 
address  an  assembly,  and  any  king  proving  deficient 
in  these  qualities  would  soon  have  found  his  position 
insecure,  or  been  compelled  to  fortify  it  by  lawless 
tyranny.  The  functions  devolving  upon  the  king  were 
mainly  three,  those  of  judge,  military  commander,  and 
priest.  The  first  required  judgment  and  ready  speech; 
the  second,  strength  and  intelligent  courage ;  the  third, 
personal  beauty  and  dignity.  Though  the  kings  were 
allowed  to  exercise  great  power,  this  was  not  irre¬ 
sponsible  or  arbitrary.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  com¬ 
patible  with  great  public  freedom  in  speech  and  action. 
Slavery  existed  only  to  a  limited  extent  and  in  a  mild 
form.  All  free  heads  of  families,  however  poor,  had 
a  right  to  attend  the  popular  assembly,  which  the  king 
consulted  on  all  important  matters,  and  at  which  the 
freest  discussion  was  allowed.  When  the  kings  exer¬ 
cised  judicial  power,  they  did  so  in  accordance  with 


INFLUENCES  ON  EDUCATION 


n 


certain  themistes  or  laws,  held  to  have  originated  with 
Zeus,  and  not  according  to  their  own  caprice.  As 
there  was  little  commerce  in  those  days,  the  inhabi¬ 
tants  of  the  ancient  cities,  when  not  engaged  in  warfare, 
devoted  themselves  chiefly  to  agriculture,  cattle-rais¬ 
ing,  and  the  useful  arts.  In  these  even  the  kings 
thought  it  no  shame  to  engage.  We  find  Paris  help¬ 
ing  to  build  his  own  palace,  Odysseus  constructing  his 
own  bed,  Lycaon  cutting  wood  to  make  chariot-rails, 
and  so  on.  Similarly,  we  find  Helen  and  other  prin¬ 
cesses  spinning  and  weaving,  while  NT ausicaa,  the 
daughter  of  the  Phseacian  king,  washes  the  clothes  of 
the  family. 

In  such  a  primitive  society,  unacquainted  with, 
letters,  the  higher  education  found  but  few  aspirants. 
The  only  persons  of  scientific  pretensions  mentioned 
by  Homer  are  the  physicians  (who  are  likewise  sur¬ 
geons)  and  the  soothsayers.  The  former  are  highly 
appreciated,  and  are  always  chiefs.  The  soothsayers 
are  the  exponents  of  divine  omens  to  the  community, 
and  occupy  a  kind  of  official  position,  like  the  Hebrew 
prophets.  No  artists,  strictly  speaking,  are  men¬ 
tioned  by  Homer,  except  the  bard,  and  he  is  much 
honored,  as  historian,  teacher,  and  inspirer.  We 
find,  indeed,  that  Achilles  and  Paris  are  proficients 
in  music;  but  such  cases  seem  exceptional.  Of  arti¬ 
sans,  several  are  mentioned  —  the  worker  in  wood, 
the  worker  in  horn  and  ivory,  the  potter  (who  uses  the 
wheel),  and  so  on.  The  existence  of  others  is  implied 
—  the  weaver,  the  mason,  the  metal-worker,  etc. 

If  there  were  no  special  schools  in  the  heroic  age, 
life  was  so  lived  as  to  be  an  excellent  school.  Then, 


18 


ARISTOTLE 


as  at  all  other  times,  it  was  extremely  social,  far  more 
so  than  our  modern  life.  This  was  due  chiefly  to  three 
causes,  (1)  the  smallness  of  the  states,  which  made  it 
possible  for  every  citizen  to  know,  and  to  feel  his  soli¬ 
darity  with,  every  other,  (2)  the  absence  of  titles  and 
formalities,  which  had  not  yet  been  introduced  from 
the  East,  (3)  the  fact  that  the  people,  especially  the 
men,  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  the  open  air, 
—  in  the  streets  and  agora,  —  and  so  were  continually 
rubbing  against  each  other.  This  sociality  had  much 
to  do  with  the  shaping  of  the  Greek  character,  the 
salient  elements  of  which  are  thus  enumerated  by 
Zeller,  the  historian  of  Greek  philosophy :  “  A  strong 
sense  of  freedom,  combined  with  a  rare  susceptibility 
to  proportion,  form,  and  order,  a  keen  relish  for  com¬ 
panionship  in  life  and  action,  a  social  tendency  which 
compelled  the  individual  to  combine  with  others,  to 
submit  to  the  general  will,  to  follow  the  traditions  of 
his  family  and  his  community.” 

Between  the  simple  social  condition  described  by 
Homer  and  that  for  which  Aristotle  wrote,  there  in¬ 
tervened  a  period  of  at  least  six  hundred  years. 
During  that  time  many  great  changes  took  place  in 
the  social  and  political  life  of  the  Greeks,  demanding 
corresponding  changes  in  education.  These  changes 
were  due  to  several  causes,  (1)  the  natural  human 
tendency  toward  freedom,  (2)  the  influence  of  foreign 
nations,  (3)  the  development  of  commerce,  (4)  the 
introduction  of  letters,  (5)  the  rise  of  philosophy,  (6) 
the  Persian  Wars.  Though  all  these  are  closely  in¬ 
terwoven  with  each  other,  there  can  be  no  harm  in 
treating  them  separately. 


INFLUENCES  ON  EDUCATION 


19 


(1)  The  tendency  toward  freedom,  so  essentially 
characteristic  of  human  nature,  was  especially  so  of 
the  nature  of  the  Greeks.  Among  them  it  rapidly 
manifested  itself  in  an  ordered  series  of  political 
forms,  beginning  with  patriarchalism,  and  ending 
variously  in  the  various  states  and  races.  There  is, 
indeed,  hardly  a  single  form  of  political  life  that  was 
not  realized  among  the  Greeks  at  some  time  or  place. 
It  was  this  that  made  it  possible  for  Aristotle  to  write 
a  work  on  Politics  which,  in  the  words  of  a  recent 
political  writer,  “has  remained  for  two  thousand  years 
one  of  the  purest  sources  of  political  wisdom.” 

The  varied  and  changeful  political  life  of  the  Greeks 
was  in  itself  a  great  education.  It  made  them  aware 
of  the  principles,  political  and  ethical,  upon  which 
society  rests,  and  rendered  necessary  a  faculty  of  clear 
and  ready  expression,  which  reacted  most  favorably 
upon  their  intellectual  and  aesthetic  faculties.  'It  was 
in  the  school  of  practical  politics  that  the  Gieeks  ac 
quired  their  rhetoric ;  and  Aristotle,  in  his  treatise  on 
Poetry,  tells  us  that,  while  “  the  older  poets  made  their 
characters  talk  like  statesmen,  the  later  ones  made 
theirs  talk  like  rhetoricians.”  Not  only,  indeed,  did 
political  life  react  upon  the  drama,  but,  in  developing 
rhetoric,  it  drew  attention  to  language  and  led  to  the 
sciences  of  grammar  and  logic,  both  of  which  were 
thus  called  into  existence  by  real  social  needs  (see 

P*  ioi)* 

(2)  Greece,  lying,  as  it  did,  between  three  conti¬ 
nents,  and  in  the  thoroughfare  of  the  ancient  nations, 
could  hardly  fail  to  be  visited  by  many  different  races, 
or,  considering  its  beauty  and  commercial  advantages, 


20 


ARISTOTLE 


to  be  coveted  by  them.  From  this  followed  two  con¬ 
sequences,  (a)  that  the  Greeks  were  a  very  mixed  race, 
(b)  that  they  were,  from  the  first  and  at  all  times,  in 
manifold  contact  with  foreign  peoples.  That  they 
were  a  mixed  race,  is  attested  alike  by  their  language, 
their  mythology,  and  their  legends.  That  they  were 
in  close  and  continual  communication  with  foreign 
peoples,  is  rendered  evident  by  their  alphabet,  their 
art,  and  the  direct  statements  of  their  historians. 
Although  it  is  true  that  the  Greeks,  especially  after 
the  Persian  Wars,  regarded  themselves  as  a  superior 
and  chosen  people,  calling  all  others  “  barbarians,”  and 
considering  them  as  fit  only  to  be  slaves,  it  is  not  the 
less  true  that  hardly  one  of  all  the  arts  and  sciences 
which  they  ultimately  carried  to  a  high  degree  of  per¬ 
fection  had  its  origin  in  Greece  proper.  All  appear 
first  in  the  colonies  settled  among  “  barbarians,  ”  —  in 
Egypt,  Asia  Minor,  Thrace,  Crete,  Sicily,  or  Italy. 
Architecture,  sculpture,  painting,  poetry  —  epic,  lyric, 
dramatic  music,  history,  politics,  philosophy,  were 
all  borrowed,  transformed,  and,  with  the  exception 
perhaps  of  tragedy  and  painting,  carried  to  a  high 
degree  of  excellence  in  the  colonies,  before  they  were 
transplanted  to  the  mother-country.  It  is  beyond  any 
doubt  that  even  the  Homeric  legends  are  of  il  bar¬ 
barian  origin,  though  from  what  people  they  were 
borrowed  is  uncertain.  It  was  the  plasticity  and  ver¬ 
satility  of  their  character,  due  in  part  to  their  mixed 
blood,  that,  by  enabling  them  to  appropriate  and  as¬ 
similate  the  arts  and  sciences  of  their  neighbors, 
raised  the  Greeks  to  a  new  plane  of  civilization  and 
made  them  the  initiators  of  a  new  epoch  in  history, 


INFLUENCES  ON  EDUCATION 


21 


the  epoch  of  life  according  to  reason.  Sir  Henry 
Sumner  Maine  says,  “  Except  the  blind  forces  of 
Nature,  nothing  moves  in  this  world  which  is  not 
Greek  in  its  origin/’ 

(3)  It  was  chiefly  through  commerce  that  the  arts 
and  sciences  borrowed  by  the  colonial  Greeks  found 
their  way  into  Greece  proper.  That  foreign  art-objects 
were  introduced  into  it  at  an  early  period,  is  rendered 
certain  by  the  recent  discoveries  at  Mycenae,  Spata, 
and  other  places,  as  well  as  by  statements  in  the  Ho¬ 
meric  poems.  That  these  were  followed  later  by 
artists,  bringing  with  them  foreign  art-processes  and 
appliances,  is  equally  certain.  The  earliest  sculptors 
whose  names  are  known  to  us,  Dipoenis  and  Scyllis, 
were  natives  of  Crete,  settled  in  Sicyon;  and  the 
earliest  poetic  guild  of  which  we  have  any  mention 
is  that  of  the  Homeridse  in  the  island  of  Chios.  But, 
besides  introducing  art  and  artists  into  Greece,  com¬ 
merce  tended  to  educate  the  Greeks  in  other  ways.  It 
made  them  acquainted  with  foreign  manners  and  lux¬ 
uries,  and  forced  them  to  learn  the  arts  of  navigation, 
ship-building  and  exchange,  which  again  rendered 
necessary  an  acquaintance  with  arithmetic  and  the  art 
of  writing.  And  this  leads  us  to 

(4)  The  Introduction  of  Letters.  This  event,  the 
date  of  which  is  uncertain,  not  only  exercised  a  most 
furthering  influence  on  the  arts  and  sciences,  but  gave 
rise  to  a  new  branch  of  education.  Letters  were  prob¬ 
ably  first  used  for  diplomatic  and  trade  purposes,  then 
for  inscriptions,  and  last  of  all  for  the  perpetuation  of 
literary  productions.  So  much  of  a  change  did  they 
effect  in  Greek  education  that  even  in  the  best  times 


22 


ARISTOTLE 


the  whole  of  the  literary  and  scientific  education  was 
called  simply  “ letters”  (ypa/ifiara).  As  late  as  the 
time  of  Plato  letters  seem  to  have  been  considered  a 
part  of  Music,  and  to  have  been  taught  by  the  same 
teacher  as  the  latter;  but  Aristotle  already  distin¬ 
guishes  the  two.  It  is  extremely  probable  that  the 
introduction  of  letters  was  the  immediate  cause  of 
the  establishment  of  schools  for  youth;  for  we  find 
no  mention  of  them  prior  to  that  event. 

(5)  The  introduction  of  letters  was  closely  fol¬ 
lowed  by  the  rise  of  Philosophy,  or  the  reflective  spirit. 
Up  to  about  the  year  600  b.c.,  the  Greeks,  like  the 
rest  of  the  world,  lived  by  habit,  tradition,  and  pre¬ 
scription,  handed  on,  with  little  or  no  criticism,  from 
generation  to  generation.  Their  ideal  world  was 
shaped  by  the  works  of  Homer  and  Hesiod.  “  Hesiod 
is  the  teacher  of  most,”  says  Heraclitus.  About  the 
date  named,  however,  society  having  advanced  to  a 
condition  of  organization  which  made  possible  a  leisure 
class,  there  begins  to  appear  a  new  spirit,  destined  to 
revolutionize,  not  only  Greece,  but  the  whole  world. 
Armed  with  a  what  ?  a  which  ?  a  why  ?  and  a  wherefore  ? 
it  no  longer  blindly  accepts  the  world  of  nature  and 
man,  but  calls  upon  it  to  give  an  account  of  itself. 
Science,  philosophy,  and  art  are  the  result. 

At  first  the  new  spirit  turns  to  nature  with  a  what? ; 
but,  gradually  discovering  that  the  answer  to  this 
brings  no  complete  explanation  of  the  world,  it  pro¬ 
pounds  its  other  questions.  It  thus  arrives  at  a  con¬ 
sciousness  of  four  distinguishable  elements  in  the 
constitution  of  things,  —  four  causes  (ama,  air  tat),  as 
they  were  termed,  —  (1)  matter,  (2)  form,  (3)  efficiency, 


INFLUENCES  ON  EDUCATION 


23 


(4)  end  or  aim.  At  the  same  time,  and  by  the  same 
process,  it  is  forced  to  a  recognition  of  the  presence 
of  reason  (Aoyos)  and  intelligence  (vo7s)  in  the  world, 
since  form,  efficiency,  and  aim  all  presuppose  both.  It 
is  thus  compelled  to  turn  from  nature  to  man,  and 
man’s  mind,  as  the  highest  known  expression  of  rea¬ 
son  and  intelligence,  and  to  devote  itself  to  the  con¬ 
sideration  of  spirit,  as  alone  promising  any  true 
explanation  of  the  world.  The  process  is  a  slow  and 
difficult  one,  and  the  history  of  it  is  the  history  of 
Greek  science,  philosophy,  and  art. 

Before  the  rise  of  philosophy,  the  teacher  of  the 
people  had  been  the  rhapsode,  or  public  reciter;  after 
that  event  he  gradually  gives  place  to  the  sophist 
(aocfuo'T')]? ,  one  who  makes  wise),  or,  as  he  later  with 
more  modesty  calls  himself,  the  philosopher  (<£iAocro<£os, 
lover  of  wisdom) .  The  history  of  Greece  for  centuries 
is,  on  its  inner  side,  a  history  of  the  struggle  between 
what  the  rhapsode  represents  and  what  the  philoso¬ 
pher  represents,  between  popular  tradition  and  com¬ 
mon  sense  on  the  one  hand,  and  individual  opinion  and 
philosophy  on  the  other.  The  transition  from  the 
first  to  the  second  of  these  mental  conditions  was  ac¬ 
complished  for  the  world,  once  for  all,  by  the  Greeks, 
and  the  turning-point  in  the  process  is  marked  by 
(6)  The  Persian  Wars  (b.c.  490-479).  The  vic¬ 
tories  gained  in  these  at  Marathon,  Salamis,  and 
Platsese,  victories  the  most  brilliant  that  history  re¬ 
cords,  exerted  a  most  powerful  influence  upon  the 
thought  and  life  of  the  Greeks.  The  consciousness  of 
having,  with  their  small  numbers,  over  and  over  again, 
both  by  land  and  by  sea,  discomfited  and  crushed  the 


24 


ARISTOTLE 


countless  hosts  of  an  empire  which  for  generations  had 
threatened  their  peace  and  liberty,  made  them  at  once 
feel  the  superiority  of  their  own  characters  and  civil 
institutions  to  those  of  the  Persians,  and  draw  a  clear 
line  of  demarcation  between  Greek  and  barbarian. 
From  this  point  on,  they  felt  themselves  to  be  a  chosen 
people,  a  nation  destined  by  the  gods  to  rule  all  others. 
“  r-^ie  soul  of  Greece  had  conquered  the  bulk  of  Persia/’ 
Persia  was  bulk  and  body;  Greece  was  soul  and  spirit. 
This  conviction  appears  at  once  in  all  the  departments 
of  Greek  life.  In  the  sphere  of  art  we  may  instance 
the  Prometheia  of  ^Eschylus  and  the  Parthenon.  In 
the  former,  what  does  the  conflict  between  Zeus  and 
Prometheus  mean  but  the  conflict  between  Greek 
spii  ituality,  intellect,  and  freedom,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  barbarian  materiality,  instinct,  and  thraldom  or 
necessity,  on  the  other?  And  what  is  the  latter  but 
a  matchless  paean  in  stone  to  Divine  Wisdom,  as  the 
conqueror  of  brute  force?  In  the  sphere  of  thought, 
we  find  Parmenides,  Anaxagoras  and,  above  all,  Soc¬ 
rates  (born  ten  years  after  the  second  Persian  War), 
turning  consciously  to  the  study  of  spirit.  “  To  be  and 
to  think  are  the  same  thing,”  says  the  first  of  these: 
“All  things  were  confused;  then  Mind  came  and  re¬ 
duced  them  to  order,”  says  the  second;  “Know  thy¬ 
self  ”  is  the  chosen  motto  of  the  third.  In  the  political 
sphere  we  find  the  Athenians  trying  to  make  the  State 
an  instrument  of  intelligence  and  virtue,  and  insisting 
upon  education  as  a  means  thereto.  Other  and  less 
desirable  results  followed  from  the  Persian  Wars ;  but 

these  can  be  better  stated  and  estimated  in  another 
connection. 


INFLUENCES  ON  EDUCATION  25 

Such  were  the  chief  causes  that  contributed  to 
transform  the  simple  patriarchal  State  of  the  Homeric 
Greeks,  with  its  purely  practical  education  at  home 
and  in  the  field,  into  the  free  polity  of  the  Greeks  of 
the  days  of  Miltiades,  Themistocles,  and  iEschylus, 
with  its  complicated  institutions  and  manifold  educa¬ 
tion.  It  has  seemed  better  to  enumerate  these  causes 
than  to  try  to  trace  the  steps  of  the  transformation 
itself.  Indeed  this  would  have  been  a  hopeless  task, 
owing  to  the  lack  of  historical  data. 


CHAPTER  VI 


EPOCHS  IN  GREEK  EDUCATION 

When  they  (our  ancestors)  began  to  enjoy  leisure  for  thought,  as 
the  result  of  easy  circumstances,  and  to  cherish  more  exalted  ideas 
with  respect  to  worth,  and  especially  when,  in  the  period  before  and 
aftei  the  Persian  Wars,  they  came  to  entertain  a  high  opinion  of 
themselves,  on  account  of  their  achievements,  they  pursued  all 
kinds  of  education,  making  no  distinction,  but  beating  about  gen¬ 
erally. —  Aristotle. 

« 

In  treating  of  Greek  education  subsequent  to  the 
introduction  of  letters  and  the  establishment  of  schools, 
we  shall  be  obliged,  in  the  interest  of  clearness,  to 
make  three  distinctions :  — 

(1)  Between  the  educational  systems  of  different 
periods. 

(2)  Between  the  educational  systems  of  different 
peoples  and  states. 

(3)  Between  the  education  actually  imparted  in  the 
vai  ions  states,  and  that  recommended  by  theorists  or 
philosophers. 

In  pursuance  of  the  first,  it  will  be  convenient  first 
to  distinguish  two  main  periods,  the  Hellenic,  and  the 
Hellenistic,  and  then  to  subdivide  these  into  minor 
periods. 

I.  The  Hellenic  Period  (776-338  b.c.).  This  in¬ 
cludes,  roughly  speaking,  the  whole  historic  life  of 

fiee  Greece,  from  the  date  of  the  first  Olympiad  to 
26 


EPOCHS  IN  GREEK  EDUCATION 


27 


that  of  the  absorption  of  Greece  into  the  Macedonian 
Empire.  It  naturally  subdivides  itself  into  two  pe¬ 
riods,  (a)  776-450;  (6)  450-338. 

(a)  That  of  the  “  Old  Education,”  authoritative  and 
puritanical,  whose  aim  was  the  training  of  good  citi¬ 
zens,  god-fearing,  law-abiding,  patriotic,  and  brave. 

(b)  That  of  the  “New  Education,”  rationalistic  and 
“ liberal,”  whose  aim  was  the  training  of  formidable 
individuals,  self-centred,  law-despising,  time-serving, 
and  cunning. 

It  is  in  the  struggle  between  the  two  systems,  and 
in  the  practical  triumph  of  the  latter,  that  Greece 
loses  her  moral  fibre;  so  that  her  citizens,  weakened 
through  sundering  selfishness,  fall  an  easy  prey  to 
the  foreign  invader. 

II.  The  Hellenistic  Period  (338  b.c.-313  a.d.). 
This  extends  from  the  Battle  of  Chaeronea,  in  which 
Greece  lost  her  independence,  to  the  definitive  tii 
umph  of  Christianity,  which  brought  a  new  ideal  and 
a  new  spirit  into  life  and  education.  It  natuially 
subdivides  itself  into  two  periods,  (a)  b.c.  338-146; 
(6)  b.c.  146-a.d.  313. 

(a)  The  Macedonian  Period,  during  which  Mace¬ 
donian  influence  prevailed,  and  Greek  thought  and 
education,  absorbing  foreign,  chiefly  Oriental,  ele¬ 
ments,  tended  toward  an  encyclopaedic  cosmopolitan¬ 
ism.  During  this  period,  Alexandria  is  the  centre  of 
Greek  influence. 

( b )  The  Roman  Period,  during  which,  as  Horace 
says,  “Captive  Greece  took  captive  her  rude  con¬ 
queror,”  and  Rome  became,  alongside  Alexandria,  a 
diffusive  centre  of  Greek  thought,  art,  and  education. 


28 


ARISTOTLE 


Between  the  two  great  periods,  the  Hellenic  and  the 
Hellenistic,  stands  the  man  who  draws  up  the  testa¬ 
ment  of  the  former  and  outlines  the  programme  of  the 
latter,  the  Macedonian  Greek,  Aristotle. 

Our  second  distinction  will  lead  us  to  treat  sepa¬ 
rately,  in  the  Hellenic  period,  the  educational  system 
of  the  three  Greek  races,  (1)  the  iEolic,  (2)  the  Doric, 
(3)  the  Ionic,  the  first  having  its  chief  centre  at  Thebes, 
the  second  at  Sparta,  the  third  at  Athens.  For  an 
account  of  the  education  of  the  first  our  data  are  but 
meagre ;  with  the  main  features  of  Spartan  and  Athe¬ 
nian  education  we  are  well  acquainted.  In  education, 
as  in  everything,  Sparta  was  conservative,  socialistic, 
and  aristocratic,  while  Athens  tended  to  liberalism, 
individualism,  and  democracy.  Hence  Sparta  clung 
desperately  to  the  “  Old  Education,  ”  and  almost  closed 
her  doors  against  art,  letters,  and  philosophy,  while 
Athens,  dragged  into  the  “New  Education,”  became 
the  home  of  all  these.  It  must  always  be  borne  in 
mind  that,  in  favoring  individualism  and  the  “New 
Education,”  Athens  was  abandoning  the  Hellenic 
ideal,  and  paving  the  way  for  the  cosmopolitanism  of 
the  Hellenistic  period.  In  this  latter,  we  shall  have 
to  distinguish  between  the  educational  systems  of 
Athens,  Alexandria,  and  Borne. 

Our  third  distinction  is  that  between  individual 
theory  and  popular  practice.  In  all  epochs  of  their 
history  the  Greek  states  produced  men  who  strove  to 
realize  in  thought  and  imagination  the  ideal  of  their 
people,  and  to  exhibit  it  as  an  aim,  an  encouragement, 
and  an  inspiration,  in  contrast  with  the  imperfect 
actual.  In  more  than  one  case  this  ideal  modified  the 


EPOCHS  IN  GREEK  EDUCATION  29 

education  of  the  following  periods.  Of  course,  such 
theories  did  not  arise  until  practice  was  compelled  to 
defend  itself  by  producing  sanctions,  either  in  religion 
or  in  reason,  and  it  may  perhaps  be  affirmed  that  the 
aim  of  them  all  was  to  discover  such  sanctions  for  the 
Greek  ideal.  Among  the  many  educational  theorists 
of  Greece,  there  are  six  who  especially  deserve  to  be 
considered:  (1)  Pythagoras,  who  in  Southern  Italy 
sought  to  graft  on  the  Doric  ideal  a  half  "mystical,  half- 
ethical  theology,  and  a  mathematical  theory  of  the 
physical  world;  (2)  Xenophon,  who  sought  to  secure 
the  same  ideal  by  connecting  it  with  a  monarchical 
form  of  government;  (3)  Plato,  who  sought  to  elevate 
it,  and  find  a  sanction  for  it  in  his  theory  of  super- 
sensuous  ideas;  (4)  Aristotle,  who  presented  in  all 
its  fulness  the  Hellenic  ideal,  and  sought  to  find 
sanctions  for  it  in  history,  social  well-being,  and  the 
promise  of  a  higher  life ;  (5)  Quintilian,  who,  in  Rome, 
embodies  the  rhetorical  or  worldly  education  of  the 
Hellenistic  period;  and  (6)  Plotinus,  who  presents 
an  ideal  of  philosophical  or  other-worldly  education, 
and  paves  the  way  for  the  triumph  of  Christian  dogma. 


Book  II 

THE  HELLENIC  PERIOD  (b.c.  776-338) 


Part  I 


THE  “OLD  EDUCATION”  (b.c.  776-480) 

CHAPTER  I 

EDUCATION  FOR  WORK  AND  FOR  LEISURE 

When  we  consider  the  different  arts  that  have  been  discovered, 
and  distinguish  between  those  which  relate  to  the  necessary  condi¬ 
tions  of  life  and  those  which  contribute  to  the  free  enjoyment  of  it 
(Siaywyrj) ,  we  always  consider  the  man  who  is  acquainted  with  the 
latter  wiser  than  him  who  is  acquainted  with  the  former,  for  the 
reason  that  the  sciences  of  the  latter  have  no  reference  to  use. 
Hence  it  was  only  when  all  the  necessary  conditions  of  life  had 
been  attained  that  those  arts  were  discovered  which  have  no  refer¬ 
ence  either  to  pleasure  or  to  the  common  needs  of  life;  and  this 
took  place  first  in  those  countries  where  men  enjoyed  leisure. — 
Aristotle. 

The  free  life  of  God  is  such  as  are  our  brief  best  moments.  — Id. 

It  is  not  fitting  that  the  free  enjoyment  of  life  should  be  per¬ 
mitted  to  boys  or  to  young  persons;  for  the  crown  of  perfection 
belongs  not  to  the  imperfect.  — Id. 

Obviously,  the  free  enjoyment  of  life  demands  not  only  the  noble 
but  also  the  pleasant ;  for  happiness  consists  of  these  too.  — Id. 

Among  the  Homeric  Greeks,  whose  life  was  almost 
entirely  devoted  to  practical  pursuits,  education  was 
mainly  practical,  aiming  to  produce  “a  speaker  of 
words  and  a  doer  of  deeds.”  As  civilization  advanced, 
and  higher  political  forms  were  evolved,  certain  classes 

33 


34 


ARISTOTLE 


of  men  found  themselves  blessed  with  leisure  which 
they  were  not  inclined  to  devote  to  mere  play.  In 
order  to  make  a  worthy  use  of  this  leisure,  they  re¬ 
quired  a  certain  training  in  those  arts  which  were 
regarded  as  befitting  a  free  man.  Education,  accord¬ 
ingly?  in  some  states,  widened  its  scope,  to  include 
those  accomplishments,  which  enable  men  to  fill  their 
hours  of  freedom  with  refined  and  gracious  enjoyment 
—  music  and  letters.  Music,  indeed,  had  been  cul¬ 
tivated  long  before,  not  only  by  professional  bards, 
but  even  by  princes,  like  Achilles  and  Paris;  this, 
however,  was  for  the  sake. of  amusement  and  recrea¬ 
tion  rather  than  of  the  free  enjoyment  of  life.  It  had 
been  regarded  as  a  means,  not  as  an  end.  We  must 
be  careful,  in  our  study  of  Greek  life  and  education, 
not  to  confound  play  and  recreation,  which  are  for  the 
sake  of  work,  with  the  free  enjoyment  of  life,  which 
is  an  end  in  itself,  and  to  which  all  work  is  but  a 
means.  “Enjoyment  is  the  end.”  We  shall  see,  as 
we  proceed,  to  what  momentous  results  this  distinc¬ 
tion  leads,  how  it  governs  not  only  all  education  but 
all  the  institutions  of  life,  and  how  it  finally  contrib¬ 
utes  to  break  up  the  whole  civilization  which  it  de¬ 
termines.  It  may  fairly  be  said  that  Greece  perished 
because  she  placed  the  end  of  life  in  individual  aesthetic 
enjoyment,  possible  only  for  a  few  and  regarding  only 
the  few. 

In  historic  Greece,  music  came  to  be  an  essential 
part  of  the  education  of  every  free  man.  Even  free 
women  learnt  it.  Along  with  music  went  poetry,  and 
when  this  came  to  be  written  down,  it  was  termed 
“letters,”  As  every  free  man  came  to  be  his 


own 


EDUCATION  FOR  WORK  AND  FOR  LEISURE  35 

minstrel  and  his  own  rhapsode,  the  professional  min¬ 
strel  and  rhapsode  disappeared,  and  the  Homeric 
poems  even,  in  order  to  be  preserved  from  oblivion, 
were  committed  to  writing  by  an  enlightened  tyrant 
—  Pisistratus. 

The  first  portion  of  the  Greek  people  that  attained 
a  degree  of  civilization  demanding  an  education  for 
hours  of  leisure,  was  the  iEolian  race,  and  particularly 
the  Asiatic  portion  of  it.  Accordingly  we  find  that 
all  the  earliest  musicians  and  poets,  didactic  and  lyric, 
are  iEolians  —  Hesiod,  Terpander,  Arion,  Alcaeus, 
Sappho,  Pittacus,  etc.  Lesbos  seems  to  have  taken 
the  lead  in  this  “ higher  education.”  The  last  five 
names  all  belong  to  that  island,  which  produced  also 
the  earliest  Greek  historian  and  prose-writer  —  Hel- 
lanicus.  But  the  ^Eolians,  though  earliest  in  the 
field,  were  soon  outstripped  by  the  other  two  races,  the 
Doric  and  the  Ionic.  iEolian  education  and  culture 
never  advanced  beyond  music  and  lyric  poetry.  It 
knew  no  drama,  science,  or  philosophy. 

The  iEolians  were  followed,  almost  simultaneously, 
by  the  Dorians  and  Ionians,  who  pursued  two  widely 
divergent  directions.  The  former  borrowed  the  lyric 
education  and  culture  of  the  ^Eolians,  and  produced 
several  lyric  poets  of  distinguished  merit  —  Tyrtseus, 
Aleman,  Ibycus,  Stesichorus:  nay,  they  even  advanced 
far  enough  to  take  the  first  steps  in  science,  philoso¬ 
phy,  and  dramatic  poetry.  Pythagoras,  Epicharmus, 
Sophron,  Xenarchus,  and  Susarion  were  all  Dorians. 
But  the  progress  of  the  race  was  retarded  and  finally 
checked  by  rigid  political  institutions  of  a  socialistic 
character,  which,  by  suppressing  individual  initiative, 
reduced  the  whole  to  immobility. 


36 


ARISTOTLE 


The  Ionians,  on  the  contrary,  borrowing  freely  from 
both  iEolians  and  Dorians,  and  evolving  ever  freer  and 
freer  institutions,  carried  education  and  culture  to  a 
point  which  has  never  been  passed,  and  rarely,  if  ever, 
reached,  in  the  history  of  our  race.  And  when  they 
ceased  to  grow,  and  decay  set  in,  this  was  due  to  ex¬ 
actly  the  opposite  cause  to  that  which  stunted  them 
among  the  Dorians;  namely,  to  excessive  individual¬ 
ism,  misnamed  liberty.  Individualism  ruined  Athens. 

Although  education  assumed  different  forms  amonsr 
different  portions  of  the  Greek  race,  there  are  certain 
features  that  seem  to  have  been  common  to  all  these 
forms  during  the  epoch  of  the  “  Old  Education.”  Two 
of  these  deserve  attention. 

First.  Education  was  every  where  a  branch  of  state¬ 
craft,  and  the  State  itself  was  only  the  highest  educa¬ 
tional  institution.  This  was  equally  true  whether  the 
schools  were  public,  as  at  Sparta,  or  private,  as  at 
Athens.  Everywhere  citizenship  was  a  degree,  con¬ 
ferred  only  upon  sons  of  free  citizens,  after  a  satis¬ 
factory  examination  (So/a/xaoha). 

Second.  The  stages  or  grades  of  education  were 
everywhere  the  same,  although  their  limits  were  not 
everywhere  marked  by  the  same  number  of  years. 
The  first,  extending  usually  from  birth  to  the  end  of 
the  seventh  year,  was  that  of  home  education;  the 
second,  extending  from  the  beginning  of  the  eighth 
year  to  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  or,  perhaps  oftener, 
the  eighteenth  year,  was  that  of  school  education;  the 
third,  extending  from  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth 
or  nineteenth  year  to  the  end  of  the  twentieth  (in 
Sparta  of  the  thirtieth),  was  that  of  college  education, 


EDUCATION  FOR  WORK  AND  FOR  LEISURE  37 

or  education  for  the  duties  of  citizenship ;  the  fourth, 
including  the  remainder  of  life,  was  that  of  university 
education,  or  education  through  the  State,  which  then 
was  the  .only  university.  At  the  beginning  of  the  third 
period,  the  young  men  took  their  first  State  examina¬ 
tion,  and  if  they  passed  it  successfully,  they  received 
the  degree  of  Cadet  or  Citizen-novice  («< firjfios) ;  but  it 
was  only  at  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  period,  and 
after  they  had  passed  a  second  examination  ( SoKi^aata 
els  avSpas),  that  they  received  the  degree  of  Man  and 
Citizen  and  were  permitted  to  exercise  all  the  func¬ 
tions  of  freemen.  The  State  then  became,  in  a  very 
real  sense,  their  Alma  Mater. 

In  most  states,  this  graded  education  fell  only  to  the 
lot  of  males,  the  education  of  females  stopping  short 
with  the  first  grade,  the  family,  which  was  regarded 
as  their  only  sphere.  It  was  otherwise  at  Sparta, 
Teos,  and  apparently  among  the  iEolians  generally. 
As  a  consequence  it  is  only  among  the  iEolians  and 
Dorians  that  any  poetesses  of  note  appear  —  Sappho, 
Corinna,  Telesilla,  etc.  Although,  however,  woman’s 
sphere  was  the  family,  and  she  was  considered  to  have 
done  her  duty  when  she  worthily  filled  the  place  of 
wife,  mother,  and  mistress,  there  was  nothing  to  pre¬ 
vent  her  from  acquiring  the  higher  education,  if  she 
chose  to  do  so.  That  she  did  not  often  so  choose, 
seems  true ;  still  there  are  examples  of  learned  women 
even  among  the  Athenians.  The  daughter  of  Thucyd¬ 
ides  is  said  to  have  continued  his  history  after  his 
death,  and,  whether  the  statement  be  true  or  not,  the 
fact  that  it  was  made  shows  that  the  ability  to  write 
history  was  not  regarded  as  impossible  or  surprising 


m  a  woman. 


CHAPTEB  II 


iEOLIAN  OR  THEBAN  EDUCATION 

Hesiod  is  the  teacher  of  most.  —  Heraclitus. 

When  thou  art  dead,  thon  shalt  lie  in  the  earth. 

Not  even  the  memory  of  thee  shall  be 
Thenceforward  nor  forever ;  for  thou  hast 
No  share  in  the  Pierian  roses ;  but 
Ev’n  in  the  halls  of  Hades  thou  shalt  flit, 

A  frightened  shadow,  with  the  shadowy  dead. 

—  Sappho  (to  an  uneducated  ivoman). 

What  rustic  hoyden  ever  charms  the  soul, 

That  round  her  ankles  cannot  kilt  her  coats?  —  Id. 

The  ^Eolians  appear  to  have  been  the  earliest  of 
the  Greek  races  to  make  any  considerable  advance  in 
culture.  Their  claim  to  Homer  can  hardly  be  sus¬ 
tained;  but  they  certainly  produced  Hesiod,  most  of 
the  greater  lyric  poets  and  poetesses,  and  the  first 
historian.  Eor  a  time  they  bade  fair  to  lead  the  cul¬ 
ture  of  Greece.  But  the  promise  was  not  fulfilled. 
During  the  palmy  period  of  Greek  history,  they  were 
not  only  the  most  uncultured  and  uncouth  of  the 
Greeks,  but  they  even  prided  themselves  upon  their 
boorishness  of  speech  and  manner,  and  derided  cul¬ 
ture.  In  the  glorious  struggle  in  which  Greece  main¬ 
tained  the  cause  of  culture  and  freedom  against  Persia, 
Thebes,  then  the  chief  centre  of  dEolianism,  sided  with 
the  barbarian,  as,  indeed,  was  natural. 

38 


iEOLIAN  OR  THEBAN  EDUCATION 


39 


Theban  education  was,  of  course,  a  reflex  of  the 
character  of  the  Theban  and,  indeed,  of  the  Boeotian, 
people.  Its  main  divisions  were  those  of  Greek  edu¬ 
cation  generally, — Gymnastics  and  Music;  but  the 
former  was  learnt  solely  for  athletic  purposes,  and 
the  latter  mainly  for  use  at  banquets  and  drinking- 
bouts,  in  which  the  Boeotians  found  their  chief  delight. 
Letters  were  studied  as  little  as  at  Sparta  (see  p.  47), 
and  the  language  of  the  people  remained  harsh  and 
unmusical.  Of  higher  education  there  was  hardly  a 
trace.  The  sophists  passed  Boeotia  by.  Even  Pindar, 
who  was  by  birth  a  Theban,  and  a  sincerely  patriotic 
one,  sought  and  found  recognition  anywhere  rather 
than  among  his  own  people.  He  did  not  even  write 
in  their  dialect. 

The  reason  for  this  backwardness  on  the  part  of  the 
Boeotian  TEolians  lay  in  the  fact  that  they  lived,  as  a 
conquering  race,  in  the  midst  of  a  people  superior  to 
them  in  every  respect  save  strength,  and  could  main¬ 
tain  their  ascendency  only  by  brute  force.  When  this 
failed,  and  the  conquered  race,  which  had  never  for¬ 
gotten  Cadmus  and  its  ancient  traditions,  came  to  the 
front,  education  and  culture  found  their  way  even  to 
Thebes.  It  was  due  to  this  change  in  political  con¬ 
ditions  that  a  Pindar  could  arise,  and  it  was  doubtless 
the  demand  for  culture  consequent  thereupon  that 
induced  certain  members  of  the  scattered  Pythagorean 
school  (see  p.  54)  to  seek  refuge  in  Thebes  and  there 
devote  themselves  to  teaching.  Among  these  were 
Philolaus 1  and  Lysis,  the  latter  of  whom  was  proba- 

1  It  is  worth  while  to  note  that  it  was  a  passage  from  Philolaus 
that  suggested  to  Copernicus  the  revolution  of  the  earth  round  a 
centre. 


40 


ARISTOTLE 


bly  the  author  of  the  famous  “  Golden  Words  ”  (see 
p.  57) .  But  he  has  a  better  claim  to  fame  than  this ; 
for  he  was  the  teacher  of  the  bravest  and  most  lovable 
man  that  Greece  ever  produced  —  Epaminondas. 

If  any  enthusiastic  believer  in  the  power  of  educa¬ 
tion  desire  to  fortify  his  cause  by  means  of  a  brilliant 
example,  he  will  find  none  superior  to  Epaminondas ; 
for  there  can  hardly  be  any  question  that  it  was  the 
earnest,  systematic,  religious,  and  moral  Pythagorean 
training  which  he  received  from  the  aged  Lysis,  whom 
he  treated  as  a  father,  that  made  him  what  he  was, 
and  enabled  him  to  do  what  he  did,  —  which  was 
nothing  less  than  to  place  Thebes  at  the  head  of 
Greece.  Thebes  rose  and  fell  with  Epaminondas.  But 
that  was  not  all.  It  was  the  example  of  Epaminondas 
that  kindled  the  ambition  of  Philip  of  Macedon,  who 
was  educated  under  his  eye,  and  of  his  far  more 
famous  son,  Alexander,  who  made  all  Greece  a  prov¬ 
ince  of  his  empire.  Pythagoras,  Lysis,  Epaminondas, 
Philip,  Alexander  —  in  five  brief  generations  an  ear¬ 
nest  teacher  conquers  a  world ! 

Erom  the  time  of  Epaminondas  on,  Thebes  followed 
the  ordinary  course  of  Greek  education. 


CHAPTER  III 


DORIAN  OR  SPARTAN  EDUCATION 

Go,  tell  at  Sparta,  thou  that  passest  by, 

That  here,  obedient  to  her  laws,  we  lie. 

—  Simonides  ( Epitaph  on  the  Three  Hundred 

who  fell  at  Tliermopylse) . 

This  is  a  matter  for  which  the  Lacedsemonians  deserve  appro¬ 
bation  :  they  are  extremely  solicitous  about  the  education  of  their 
youth  and  make  it  a  public  function.  —  Aristotle. 

The  Lacedaemonians  impart  to  their  children  the  look  of  wild 
beasts,  through  the  severity  of  the  exercises  to  which  they  subject 
them,  their  notion  being  that  such  training  is  especially  calculated 
to  heighten  courage.  —  Id. 

These  are  so  far  behind  in  education  and  philosophy  that  they  do 
not  learn  even  letters.  —  Isocrates. 

Old  Men.  We  were  once  strong  men  (youths). 

Men.  And  we  are  ;  if  you  will,  behold. 

Boys.  And  we  shall  be  far  superior.  —  Spartan  Choric  Anthem. 

They  asked  no  clarion’s  voice  to  fire 
Their  souls  with  an  impulse  high : 

But  the  Dorian  reed  and  the  Spartan  lyre 
For  the  sons  of  liberty! 

So  moved  they  calmly  to  their  field, 

Thence  never  to  return, 

Save  bearing  back  the  Spartan  shield, 

Or  on  it  proudly  borne  !  —  Hemans. 

There  was  a  law  that  the  cadets  should  present  themselves  naked 
in  public  before  the  ephors  every  ten  days;  and,  if  they  were  well 
knit  and  strong,  and  looked  as  if  they  had  been  carved  and  ham¬ 
mered  into  shape  by  gymnastics,  they  were  praised;  but  if  their 
limbs  showed  any  flabbiness  or  softness,  any  little  swelling  or  sus- 

41 


42 


ARISTOTLE 


picion  of  adipose  matter  due  to  laziness,  they  were  flogged  and 
justiced  there  and  then.  The  ephors,  moreover,  subjected  their 
clothing  every  day  to  a  strict  examination,  to  see  that  everything 
was  up  to  the  mark.  No  cooks  were  permitted  in  Lacedaemon  but 
flesh-cooks.  A  cook  who  knew  anything  else  was  driven  out  of 
Sparta,  as  physic  for  invalids.  —  Julian. 

Every  rational  system  of  education  is  determined 
by  some  aim  or  ideal  more  or  less  consciously  set  up. 
That  of  the  Dorians,  and  particularly  of  the  Spartans, 
may  be  expressed  in  one  word  —  Strength,  which,  in 
the  individual,  took  the  form  of  physical  endurance, 
in  the  State,  that  of  self-sufficiency  (avrapKaa).  A 
self-sufficient  State,  furnishing  a  field  for  all  the 
activities  and  aspirations  of  all  its  citizens,  and 
demanding  their  strongest  and  most  devoted  exertions 
—  such  is  the  Dorian  ideal.  It  is  easy  to  see  what 
virtues  Dorian  education  would  seek  to  develop  — 
physical  strength,  bravery,  and  obedience  to  the  laws 
of  the  State.  Among  the  Dorians  the  human  being 
is  entirely  absorbed  in  the  citizen.  The  State  is  all 
in  all. 

The  Dorian  ideal  realized  itself  chiefly  in  two  places, 
Crete  and  Sparta.  Both  these  were  repeatedly  held 
up  in  ancient  times  as  models  of  well-governed  states, 
and  even  Plato  puts  the  substance  of  his  Laws  into 
the  mouth  of  a  Cretan. 

About  the  details  of  Cretan  education  we  are  but 
poorly  informed.  Two  things,  however,  we  know: 
(1)  that  Lycurgus,  the  reputed  founder  of  Spartan 
education,  was  held  to  have  drawn  many  of  his  ideas 
from  Crete,  and  (2)  that  the  final  result  of  Cretan 
education  —  and  the  same  is  true  of  all  education  that 
merges  the  man  in  the  citizen  —  was,  in  spite  of  its 


DORIAN  OR  SPARTAN  EDUCATION 


43 


strictness,  demoralizing.  The  character  of  the  people 
was  summed  up  by  their  poet  Epimenides,  a  contem¬ 
porary  of  Solon’s,  in  a  famous  line  quoted  by  St.  Paul, 
“The  Cretans  are  always  liars,  evil  beasts,  lazy 
bellies.” 

With  regard  to  Spartan  education  our  information 
is  much  greater,  and  we  may  therefore  select  it  as  the 
type  of  Dorian  education  generally. 

The  Peloponnesian  Dorians  having,  through  contact 
with  the  more  civilized  peoples  whom  they  conquered, 
lost  much  of  that  rigorous  discipline  and  unquestion¬ 
ing  loyalty  which  made  them  formidable,  were,  in  the 
ninth  century  b.c.,  becoming  disorganized,  so  that  in 
two  of  the  Dorian  states  they  were  assimilated  by 
the  native  population,  the  Argives  and  the  Messe- 
nians.  The  same  process  was  rapidly  going  on  in  the 
third  state,  Lacedaemon,  when  Lycurgus,  fired  with 
patriotic  zeal,  resolved  to  put  an  end  to  it,  by  restor¬ 
ing  among  his  people  the  old  Dorian  military  disci¬ 
pline.  To  prepare  himself  for  this  task,  he  visited 
Crete  and  studied  its  institutions.  On  his  return  he 
persuaded  his  countrymen  to  submit  to  a  “  Constitu¬ 
tion,”  which  ever  afterwards  went  by  his  name.  This 
constitution  included  a  scheme  of  education,  whose 
aim  was  a  thorough  training  of  the  whole  of  the  free 
citizens,  both  male  and  female,.  (1)  in  physical  endur¬ 
ance,  and  (2)  in  complete  subordination  to  the  State. 
The  former  was  sought  to  be  imparted  by  means  of  a 
rigorous  and  often  cruel,  system  of  gymnastics;  the 
latter,  through  choric  music  and  dancing,  including 
military  drill.  Spartan  education,  therefore,  was 
confined  to  two  branches,  Gymnastics  and  Music. 


44 


ARISTOTLE 


Instruction  in  letters  was  confined  to  the  merest  ele¬ 
ments.  Sparta  accordingly  never  produced  a  poet, 
an  historian,  an  artist,  or  a  philosopher  of  any  note. 
Even  the  arrangers  of  her  choruses  were  foreigners 
—  Tyrtaeus,  Terpander,  Arion,  Aleman,  Thaletas, 
Stesichorus. 

As  Spartan  education  was  nothing  more  or  less  than 
a  training  for  Spartan  citizenship,  we  must  preface 
our  account  of  it  by  a  few  words  on  the  Spartan  State. 

The  government  of  Sparta  was  in  the  hands  of  a 
closed  aristocracy,  whose  sole  aim  was  the  mainte¬ 
nance  of  its  own  supremacy,  as  against  (1)  foreign 
enemies,  (2)  Perioikoi ,  or  disfranchised  native  citizens, 
(3)  Helots,  or  native  serfs.  To  secure  this,  it  formed 
itself  into  a  standing  army,  with  a  strict  military 
organization.  Sparta,  its  one  abode,  was  a  camp ;  all 
free  inhabitants  were  soldiers.  Though  they  were 
compelled  to  marry,  the  city  contained  no  homes. 
The  men  and,  from  the  close  of  their  seventh  year, 
the  boys,  lived  in  barracks  and  ate  at  public  tables 
(■ Phiditia ).  The  women  had  but  one  recognized  func¬ 
tion,  that  of  furnishing  the  State  with  citizens,  and 
were  educated  solely  with  a  view  to  this.  No  other 
virtue  was  expected  of  them.  Aristotle  tells  us  that 
“  they  lived  in  every  kind  of  profligacy  and  in  luxury.  ” 
Polyandry  was  common,  and,  when  a  woman  lost  all 
her  husbands,  she  was  often  compelled  to  enter  into 
relations  with  slaves,  in  order  that  she  might  not  fail 
in  her  political  duty. 

Among  a  people  organized  on  the  basis  of  brute 
force,  it  were  vain  to  look  for  any  of  the  finer  traits 
of  human  nature  —  gentleness,  tenderness,  sympathy, 


DORIAN  OR  SPARTAN  EDUCATION 


45 


pity,  mercy.  The  mercilessness  and  cruelty  of  the 
Spartans  were  proverbial.  Perioikoi  and  Helots  incur¬ 
ring  the  displeasure  or  suspicion  of  the  authorities 
were  secretly  put  to  death,  without  even  the  form  of 
a  trial.  A  striking  instance  of  such  cruelty  is  recorded 
by  Thucydides.  The  facts  are  thus  stated  by  Grote 
( History  of  Greece ,  vol.  ii,  pp.  376-7):  ‘‘It  was  in 
the  eighth  year  of  the  Peloponnesian  War,  after  the 
Helots  had  been  called  upon  for  signal  military  efforts 
in  various  ways,  .  .  .  that  the  epliors  felt  especially 
apprehensive  of  an  outbreak.  Anxious  to  single  out 
the  most  forward  and  daring  Helots,  as  men  from 
whom  they  had  most  to  dread,  they  issued  proclama¬ 
tion  that  every  member  of  that  class  who  had  rendered 
distinguished  services  should  make  his  claim  known 
at  Sparta,  promising  liberty  to  the  most  deserving. 
A  large  number  of  Helots  came  forward  to  claim  the 
boon:  not  less  than  two  thousand  of  them  were 
approved,  formally  manumitted,  and  led  in  solemn 
procession  round  the  temples,  with  garlands  on  their 
heads,  as  an  inauguration  to  their  coming  life  of  free¬ 
dom.  But  the  treacherous  garland  only  marked  them 
out  as  victims  for  sacrifice :  every  man  of  them  forth¬ 
with  disappeared ;  the  manner  of  their  death  was  an 
untold  mystery.” 

Spartan  education  was  entirely  conducted  by  the 
State,  at  the  expense  of  the  State,  and  for  the  ends  of 
the  State.  It  differed  in  this  respect  from  nearly 
every  other  system  of  Greek  education.  It  was  divided 
into  four  periods,  corresponding  respectively  to  child¬ 
hood,  boyhood,  youth,  and  manhood. 

(a)  Childhood.  —  As  soon  as  the  Spartan  child 


46 


ARISTOTLE 


came  into  the  world,  the  State,  through  officers  ap¬ 
pointed  for  that  purpose,  sent  to  examine  it.  If  it 
seemed  vigorous,  and  showed  no  bodily  defect,  it  was 
permitted  to  live,  and  forthwith  adopted  by  the  State ; 
otherwise  it  was  carried  to  the  mountains  and  thrown 
over  a  precipice.  The  children  accepted  by  the  State 
were  for  the  next  seven  years  left  in  charge  of  their 
mothers,  but,  doubtless,  still  under  State  surveillance. 
Just  how  they  were  trained  during  these  years,  we  ' 
do  not  know.  We  can  only  guess  that  they  under¬ 
went  very  much  the  same  process  as  other  Greek  chil¬ 
dren,  any  difference  being  in  the  direction  of  rigor. 
As  the  details  of  Greek  education  generally  will  be 
dealt  with  under  the  head  of  Athens,  they  may  be 
omitted  here. 

(b)  Boyhood.  —  On  completing  his  seventh  year, 
the  Spartan  boy  was  transferred  from  his  mother’s 
house  and  care  to  a  public  barracks  and  the  direct 
tuition  of  the  State.  Although  the  boys  were  in  charge 
of  a  special  officer  (ttcu Sovojuos),  who  divided  them  into 
squads  and  companies,  and  arranged  their  exercises 
for  them,  they  were  nevertheless  taught  to  regard 
every  grown  man  as  a  teacher,  and  every  such  man 
"was  expected  to  correct  them  promptly  and  rigorously, 
whenever  he  saw  them  doing  wrong.  At  the  same 
time,  every  boy  was  expected  to  form  an  intimate  con¬ 
nection  with  some  one  man,  who  then,  to  a  large  extent, 
became  responsible  for  his  conduct;  and,  though  the 
choice  in  this  matter  rested  with  the  parties  concerned, 
it  was  considered  a  disgrace  in  a  man,  no  less  than  in 
a  boy,  to  be  without  such  connection.  Though  this 
arrangement,  it  is  said,  often  led  to  lamentable  abuses, 


DORIAN  OR  SPARTAN  EDUCATION 


47 


there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  admirably  served  the 
purposes  of  Sparta.  It  furnished  every  boy  with  a 
tutor,  who,  under  the  circumstances/could  hardly  fail 
to  treat  him  kindly,  and  who  was  interested  in  making 
him  surpass  all  other  boys  in  courage  and  endurance. 
This  friendly  influence  of  teacher  on  pupil  was  some¬ 
thing  in  which  the  Greeks  at  all  times  strongly  be¬ 
lieved,  and  which  formed  an  important  force  in  all 
their  education.  In  Sparta,  as  in  Crete  and  Thebes, 
it  was  legally  recognized.  One  of  the  duties  of  Spar¬ 
tan  “  inspirer”  (dcnrvrjXa^  or  etWv^Aos)?  as  he  was 
called,  was  to  teach  his  young  friend  (dtras)  to  demean 
himself  properly  on  all  occasions,  and  to  hold  his 
tongue  except  when  he  had  something  very  important 
to  say.  In  this  way  it  was  that  the  young  Spartans 
received  their  moral  education,  and  acquired  that 
effective  brevity  of  speech  which  to  this  day  we  call 
“  laconic.’7 

The  formal  education  of  Spartan  boys  consisted 
mainly  of  gymnastics,  music,  choric  dancing,  and 
larceny.  Their  literary  education  was  confined  to  a 
little  reading,  writing,  and  finger-arithmetic;  every¬ 
thing  beyond  this  was  proscribed.  And  the  reasons 
for  this  proscription  are  not  difficult  to  discover. 
Sparta  staked  everything  upon  her  political  strength, 
and  this  involved  two  things,  (1)  equality  among  her 
free  citizens,  and  (2)  absolute  devotion  on  their  part 
to  her  interest,  both  of  which  the  higher  education 
would  have  rendered  impossible.  Education  estab¬ 
lishes  among  men  distinctions  of  worth  quite  other 
than  military,  and  gives  them  individual  interests 
distinct  from  those  of  the  State.  It  was  the  same 


48 


ARISTOTLE 


reason  that  induced  Eome,  during  the  best  period  of 
her  history,  to  exclude  her  citizens  from  all  higher 
education,  which  is  essentially  individual  and  cosmo- 
politan. 

The  education  of  the  Spartan  boys  was  conducted 
mostly  in  the  open  air  and  in  public,  so  that  they  were 
continually  exposed  to  the  cheers  or  scoffs  of  critical 
spectators,  to  whom  their  performances  were  a  con¬ 
tinual  amusement  of  the  nature  of  a  cock-fight. 
Whether  the  different  “  inspirers  ”  betted  on  their  own 
boys  may  be  doubtful;  but  they  certainly  used  every 
effort  to  make  them  win  in  any  and  every  contest,  and 
the  “  inspirer  ”  of  a  “  winning  ”  boy  was  an  envied  man. 
The  result  was  that  many  boys  lost  their  lives  amid 
cheers,  rather  than  incur  the  disgrace  of  being  beaten. 
Inasmuch  as  the  sole  purpose  of  gymnastics  was 
strength  and  endurance;  of  dancing,  order;  and  of 
music,  martial  inspiration,  it  is  easy  to  see  what  forms 
these  studies  necessarily  assumed;  and  we  need  only 
stop  to  remark  that  Dorian  music  received  the  unqual¬ 
ified  approbation  of  all  the  great  educational  writers 
of  antiquity,  — even  of  Aristotle,  who  had  only  words 
of  condemnation  for  Spartan  gymnastics. 

There  was  only  one  branch  of  Spartan  school-educa¬ 
tion  that  was  not  conducted  in  public,  and  that  was 
larceny.  The  purpose  of  this  curious  discipline  was 
to  enable  its  subjects  to  act,  on  occasion,  as  detectives 
and  assassins  among  the  ever  discontented  and  rebel¬ 
lious  Helots.  How  successful  it  was,  may  be  judged 
from  the  incident  recorded  on  page  45.  Larceny,  when 
successfully  carried  out  under  difficult  circumstances, 
was  applauded;  when  discovered,  it  was  severely  pun- 


DORIAN  OR  SPARTAN  EDUCATION 


49 


ished.  A  story  is  told  of  a  boy  who,  rather  than  be¬ 
tray  himself,  allowed  a  stolen  fox,  concealed  under 
his  clothes,  to  eat  out  his  entrails. 

In  one  respect  Spartan  education  may  claim  supe¬ 
riority  over  that  of  most  other  Greek  states :  it  was 
not  confined  to  one  sex.  Spartan  girls,  though  appar¬ 
ently  permitted  to  live  at  home,  were  subjected  to  a 
course  of  training  differing  from  that  of  their  brothers 
only  in  being  less  severe.  They  had  their  own  exer¬ 
cise-grounds,  on  which  they  learnt  to  leap,  run,  cast 
the  javelin,  throw  the  discus,  play  ball,  wrestle,  dance, 
and  sing;  and  there  is  good  evidence  to  show  that  their 
exercises  had  an  admirable  effect  upon  their  physical 
constitution.  That  the  breezy  daughters  of  Sparta 
were  handsomer  and  more  attractive  than  the  hot¬ 
house  maidens  of  Athens,  is  a  well-attested  fact.  Many 
Spartan  women  continued  their  athletic  and  musical 
exercises  into  ripe  womanhood,  learning  even  to  ride 
spirited  horses  and  drive  chariots.  If  we  may  believe 
Aristotle,  however,  the  effect  of  all  this  training  upon 
their  moral  nature  was  anything  but  desirable.  They 
were  neither  virtuous  nor  brave. 

(c)  Youth. —About  the  age  of  eighteen,  Spartan 
boys  passed  into  the  class  of  epheboi,  or  cadets,  and 
began  their  professional  training  for  war.  This  was 
their  business  for  the  next  twelve  years,  and  no  light 
business  it  was.  For  the  first  two  years  they  were 
called  melleirenes,  and  devoted  themselves  to  learning 
the  use  of  arms,  and  to  light  skirmishing.  They  were 
under  the  charge  of  special  officers  called  bideoi,  but 
had  to  undergo  a  rigid  examination  before  the  ephors 
every  ten  days  (see  p.  41).  Their  endurance  was  put 


50 


ARISTOTLE 


to  severe  tests.  Speaking  of  the  altar  of  Artemis 
Orthia,  Pausanias  says:  “An  oracle  commanded  the 
people  to  imbrue  the  altar  with  human  blood,  and 
hence  arose  the  custom  of  sacrificing  on  it  a  man 
chosen  by  lot.  Lycurgus  did  away  with  this  practice, 
and  ordained  that,  instead,  the  cadets  should  be 
scourged  before  the  altar,  and  thus  the  altar  is  covered 
with  blood.  While  this  is  going  on,  a  priestess  stands 
by,  holding,  in  her  arms  the  wooden  image  (of  Arte¬ 
mis).  This  image,  being  small,  is,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  light ;  but,  if  at  any  time  the  scourgers 
deal  too  lightly  with  any  youth,  on  account  of  his 
beauty  or  his  rank,  then  the  image  becomes  so  heavy 
that  the  priestess  cannot  support  it;  whereupon  she 
reproves  the  scourgers,  and  declares  that  she  is  bur¬ 
dened  on  their  account.  Thus  the  image  that  came 
from  the  sacrifices  in  the  Crimea  has  always  con¬ 
tinued  to  enjoy  human  blood.”  This  Artemis  appears, 
with  a  bundle  of  twigs  in  her  arm,  next  to  Ares,  among 
the  Spartan  divinities,  on  the  frieze  ©f  the  Parthe¬ 
non.  At  twenty  years  of  age,  the  young  men  became 
eirenes,  and  entered  upon  a  course  of  study  closely 
resembling  actual  warfare.  They  lived  on  the  coarsest 
food,  slept  on  reeds,  and  rarely  bathed  or  walked. 
They  exercised  themselves  in  heavy  arms,  in  shooting, 
riding,  swimming,  ball-playing,  and  in  conflicts  of  the 
most  brutal  kind.  They  took  part  in  complicated  and 
exhausting  dances,  the  most  famous  of  which  was  the 
Pyrrhic,  danced  under  arms.  They  manned  fortresses, 
assassinated  Helots,  and,  in  cases  of  need,  even  took 
the  field  against  an  enemy. 

(d)  Manhood.  —  At  the  age  of  thirty,  being  sup- 


DORIAN  OR  SPARTAN  EDUCATION 


51 


posed  to  have  reached  their  majority,  they  fell  into 
the  ranks  of  full  citizens,  and  took  their  share  in  all 
political  functions.  They  were  compelled  to  marry, 
but  were  allowed  to  visit  their  wives  only  rarely  and 
by  stealth.  They  sometimes  had  two  or  three  chil¬ 
dren  before  they  had  ever  seen  their  wives  by  day¬ 
light.  When  not  engaged  in  actual  war,  they  spent 
much  of  their  time  in  watching  the  exercises  of  their 
juniors,  and  the  rest  in  hunting  wild  boars  and  similar 
game  in  the  mountains.  Like  Xenophon,  they  thought 
hunting  the  nearest  approach  to  war. 

Such  was  the  education  that  Sparta  gave  her  sons. 
That  it  produced  strong  warriors  and  patriotic  citizens, 
there  can  be  no  doubt.  But  that  is  all :  it  produced 
no  men.  It  was  greatly  admired  by  men  like  Xeno¬ 
phon  and  Plato,  who  were  sick  of  Athenian  democ¬ 
racy;  but  Aristotle  estimated  it  at  its  true  worth. 
He  says:  “As  long  as  the  Laconians  were  the  only 
people  who  devoted  themselves  to  violent  exercises, 
they  were  superior  to  all  others;  but  now  they  are 
inferior  even  in  gymnastic  contests  and  in  war.  Their 
former  superiority,  indeed,  was  not  due  to  their  train¬ 
ing  their  young  men  in  this  way,  but  to  the  fact  that 
they  alone  did  so.”  And  even  Xenophon,  at  the  end 
of  a  long  panegyric  on  the  Spartan  constitution,  is 
obliged  to  admit  that  already  in  his  time  it  has  fallen 
from  its  old  worth  into  feebleness  and  corruption,  and 
this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  had  his  own  sons  edu¬ 
cated  at  Sparta.  When  Sparta  fell  before  the  heroic 
and  cultured  Epaminondas,  she  fell  unpitied,  leaving 
to  the  world  little  or  nothing  but  a  warning  example. 


CHAPTER  IV 


PYTHAGORAS 

Virtue  and  health  and  all  good  and  God  are  a  harmony.  — Py¬ 
thagoras. 

One  is  the  principle  of  all.  —  Philolaus  the  Pythagorean. 

All  things  that  are  known  have  number.  —  Id. 

The  principles  of  all  virtue  are  three,  knowledge,  power,  and 
choice.  Knowledge  is  like  sight,  whereby  we  contemplate  and 
judge  things;  power  is  like  bodily  strength,  whereby  we  endure 
and  adhere  to  things ;  choice  is  like  hands  to  the  soul,  whereby  we 
stretch  out  and  lay  hold  of  things.  —  Theages  the  Pythagorean. 

The  Doric  discipline,  even  in  Sparta,  where  it  could 
exhibit  its  character  most  freely,  produced  merely 
soldiers  and  not  free  citizens  or  cultivated  men.  It 
was,  nevertheless,  in  its  essential  features,  the  Hel¬ 
lenic  ideal,  and  numerous  attempts  were  made  to 
remedy  its  defects  and  to  give  it  permanence,  by  con¬ 
necting  it  with  higher  than  mere  local  and  aristocratic 
interests.  One  of  the  earliest  and  most  noteworthy 
of  these  was  made  by  Pythagoras. 

This  extraordinary  personage  appears  to  have  been 
born  in  the  island  of  Samos  in  the  first  quarter  of  the 
sixth  century  b.c.  Though  he  was  born  among  Ioni- 
ans,  his  family  appears  to  have  been  Achaian  and,  to 
some  extent,  Pelasgian  (Tyrrhenian),  having  emi¬ 
grated  from  Phlius  in  the  Argolid.  After  distinguish¬ 
ing  himself  in  Ionia,  he  emigrated  in  middle  life  to 
52 


PYTHAGORAS 


53 


Magna  Graecia,  and  took  up  his  abode  in  the  Achaian 
colony  of  Croton,  then  a  rich  and  flourishing  city. 
The  cause  of  his  emigration  seems  to  have  been  the 
tyranny  of  Polycrates,  which  apparently  imparted  to 
him  a  prejudice  against  Ionic  tendencies  in  general. 
Whether  he  derived  any  part  of  his  famous  learning 
from  visits  to  Egypt,  Phoenicia,  Babylonia,  etc.,  as 
was  asserted  in  later  times,  is  not  clear.  It  is  not 
improbable  that  he  visited  Egypt,  and  there  is  good 
reason  for  believing  that  he  became  acquainted  with 
Phoenician  theology  through  Pherecydes  of  Syros. 
That  he  was  an  omnivorous  student  is  attested  by 
his  contemporary,  Heraclitus.  He  was  undoubtedly 
affected  by  the  physical  theories  current  in  his  time 
in  Ionia,  while  he  plainly  drew  liis  political  and  ethi¬ 
cal  ideas  from  Sparta  or  Crete. 

Of  his  activity  in  Ionia  we  know  little;  but  we  may 
perhaps  conclude  that  it  was  of  the  same  nature  as  that 
which  he  afterwards  displayed  in  Italy.  Here  he 
appeared  in  the  triple  capacity  of  theologian,  ethical 
teacher,  and  scientist.  His  chief  interest  for  us  lies 
in  the  fact  that  he  was  apparently  the  first  man  in 
Greece,  and,  indeed,  in  the  western  world,  who  sought 
to  establish  an  ethical  institution  apart  from  the  State. 
In  this  respect  he  bears  a  strong  resemblance  to  the 
prophet  Isaiah,  who  may  be  said  to  have  originated 
the  idea  of  a  Church  (see  p.  / 3^).  Pythagoras’  aim 
seems  to  have  been  to  gather  round  him  a  body  of 
disciples  who  should  endeavor  to  lead  a  perfect  life, 
based  upon  certain  theological  or  metaphysical  notions, 
and  guided  by  a  rule  of  almost  monastic  strictness. 
Like  other  men  who  have  found  themselves  in  the 


54 


ARISTOTLE 


midst  of  irreverence,  selfishness,  and  democratic  vul¬ 
garity  and  anarchy,  he  believed  that  his  time  de¬ 
manded  moral  discipline,  based  upon  respect  for 
authority  and  character,  with  a  firm  belief  in  future 
retribution,  and  inculcated  by  a  careful  study  of  the 
order  and  harmony  of  nature;  and  such  discipline  he 
strove,  with  all  his  might,  to  impart.  Having  no 
faith  in  the  capacity  of  the  State  to  be  an  instrument 
for  his  purpose,  he  set  to  work  independently  of  it, 
and  seems  to  have  met  with  very  marked  success, 
drawing  to  him  many  of  the  best  men  and  women  of 
Southern  Italy.  So  numerous  and  powerful,  indeed, 
did  his  followers  become  that  they  held  the  balance 
of  power  in  several  cities,  and  were  able  to  use  it  for 
the  enforcement  of  their  own  principles.  As  these 
were  exceedingly  undemocratic,  and  opposed  to  the 
tendencies  of  the  time,  they  finally  roused  bitter 
opposition,  so  that  the  Pythagoreans  were  persecuted 
and  attempts  made  to  exterminate  them  with  fire 
and  sword.  In  this  way  their  political  influence  was 
broken,  and  their  assemblies  suppressed;  but  the 
effect  of  Pythagoras’  teaching  was  not  lost.  His 
followers,  scattered  abroad  throughout  the  Hellenic 
world,  carried  his  precepts  and  his  life-ideal  with 
them.  In  the  following  centuries  they  found  many 
noble  sympathizers  —  Pindar,  Socrates,  Plato,  Epi- 
charmus,  etc. — and  underwent  many  modifications, 
until  they  finally  witnessed  a  resurrection,  in  the 
forms  of  Neo-Pythagoreanism  and  Neo-Platonism, 
after  the  Christian  era.  In  these  later  guises,  Pythag- 
oreanism  lost  itself  in  mysticism  and  contemplation, 
turning  its  followers  into  inactive  ascetics;  but  in  its 


PYTHAGORAS 


55 


original  form  it  seems  to  have  been  especially  adapted 
to  produce  men  of  vigorous  action  and  far-sighted 
practicality.  Milo  of  Croton,  the  inimitable  wrestler; 
Archytas  of  Tarentum,  philosopher,  mathematician, 
musician,  inventor,  engineer,  general,  statesman;  and 
Epaminondas,  the  greatest  and  noblest  of  Theban 
generals,  were  professed  Pythagoreans. 

We  might  perhaps  express  the  aim  of  Pythagoras’ 
pedagogical  efforts  by  the  one  word  Harmony.  Just 
as  he  found  harmony  everywhere  in  the  physical 
world,  so  he  strove  to  introduce  the  same  into  the 
constitution  of  the  human  individual,  and  into  the 
relations  of  individuals  with  each  other.  He  may 
perhaps  be  regarded  as  the  originator  of  that  view  of 
the  world,  of  men,  and  of  society  which  makes  all 
good  consist  in  order  and  proportion,  a  view  which 
recommends  itself  strongly  to  idealists,  and  has  given 
birth  to  all  those  social  Utopias,  whose  static  perfec¬ 
tion  seems  to  relieve  the  individual  from  the  burden 
of  responsibility,  and  which  have  been  dangled  before 
the  eyes  of  struggling  humanity  from  his  days  to 
ours.  According  to  this  view,  which  had  its  roots  in 
Greek  thought  generally,  the  aim  of  education  is  to 
find  for  each  individual  his  true  place  and  to  make 
him  efficient  therein.  Man  is  made  for  order,  and 
not  order  for  man.  He  is  born  into  a  world  of  order, 
as  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  number  and  proportion 
are  found  in  everything  that  is  known.  Pythagoras, 
in  his  enthusiasm  for  his  principle,  carried  his  doc¬ 
trine  of  numbers  to  absurd  lengths,  identifying  them 
with  real  things;  but  this  enthusiasm  was  not  without 
its  valuable  results,  since  it  is  to  Pythagoras  and  his 


56 


ARISTOTLE 


school  that  we  owe  the  sciences  of  geometry  and 
music.  Moreover,  experience  must  have  taught  him 
that  it  is  one  thing  to  propound  a  theory,  another  to 
make  it  effective  in  regulating  human  relations.  In 
order  to  accomplish  the  latter  object,  he  invoked  the 
aid  of  divine  authority  and  of  the  doctrines  of  metemp¬ 
sychosis  and  future  retribution.  Hence  his  educa¬ 
tional  system  had  a  strong  religious  cast,  which 
showed  itself  even  outwardly  in  the  dignified  demeanor 
and  quiet  self-possession  of  his  followers. 

Harmony,  then,  to  be  attained  by  discipline,  under 
religious  sanctions,  was  the  aim  of  Pythagoras’  teach¬ 
ing.  Believing,  however,  that  only  a  limited  number 
of  persons  were  capable  of  such  harmony,  he  selected 
his  pupils  with  great  care,  and  subjected  them  to  a 
long  novitiate,  in  which  silence,  self-examination, 
and  absolute  obedience  played  a  prominent  part.  The 
aim  of  this  was  to  enable  them  to  overcome  impulse, 
concentrate  attention,  and  develop  reverence,  reflec¬ 
tion,  and  thoughtfulness,  the  first  conditions  of  all 
moral  and  intellectual  excellence.  While  the  first 
care  was  directed  to  their  spiritual  part,  their  bodies 
were  by  no  means  forgotten.  Food,  clothing,  and 
exercise  were  all  carefully  regulated  on  hygienic  and 
moral  principles. 

Begarding  the  details  of  Pythagoras’  educational 
system  we  are  not  well  informed ;  but  the  spirit  and 
tendency  of  it  have  been  embalmed  for  us  in  the 
so-called  Golden  Words,  which,  if  not  due  to  the 
pen  of  Pythagoras  himself,  certainly  reach  back  to 
very  near  his  time,  and  contain  nothing  at  variance 
with  what  we  otherwise  know  of  his  teaching.  We 
insert  a  literal  version. 


PYTHAGORAS 


57 


The  Golden  Words. 

The  Gods  immortal,  as  by  law  disposed, 

First  venerate,  and  reverence  the  oath : 

Then  to  the  noble  heroes,  and  the  powers 
Beneath  the  earth,  do  homage  with  just  rites. 

Thy  parents  honor  and  thy  nearest  kin, 

And  from  the  rest  choose  friends  on  virtue’s  scale. 

To  gentle  words  and  kindly  deeds  give  way, 

Nor  hate  thy  friend  for  any  slight  offence. 

Bear  all  thou  canst ;  for  Can  dwells  nigh  to  Must. 
These  things  thus  know. 

What  follow  learn  to  rule  : 

The  belly  first,  then  sleep  and  lust  and  wrath. 

Do  nothing  base  with  others  or  alone  : 

But  most  of  all  thyself  in  reverence  hold. 

Then  practise  justice  both  in  deed  and  word, 

Nor  let  thyself  wax  thoughtless  about  aught: 

But  know  that  death’s  the  common  lot  of  all. 

Be  not  untimely  wasteful  of  thy  wealth, 

Like  vulgar  men,  nor  yet  illiberal. 

In  all  things  moderation  answers  best. 

Do  things  that  profit  thee :  think  ere  thou  act. 

Let  never  sleep  thy  drowsy  eyelids  greet, 

Till  thou  hast  pondered  each  act  of  the  day : 

“  Wherein  have  I  transgressed  ?  What  have  I  done  ? 
What  duty  shunned  ?  ”  — beginning  from  the  first, 
Unto  the  last.  Then  grieve  and  fear  for  what 
Was  basely  done ;  but  in  the  good  rejoice. 

These  things  perform  ;  these  meditate  ;  these  love. 
These  in  the  path  of  godlike  excellence 
Will  place  thee,  yea,  by  Him  who  gave  our  souls 
The  number  Four,  perennial  nature’s  spring  ! 

But,  ere  thou  act,  crave  from  the  gods  success. 


58 


ARISTOTLE 


These  precepts  having  mastered,  thou  shalt  know 
The  system  of  the  never-dying  gods 
And  dying  men,  and  how  from  all  the  rest 
Each  thing  is  sunder’d,  and  how  held  in  one  : 

And  thou  shalt  know,  as  it  is  right  thou  shouldst, 
That  nature  everywhere  is  uniform, 

And  so  shalt  neither  hope  for  things  that  lie 
Beyond  all  hope,  nor  fail  of  any  truth. 

But  from  such  food  abstain  as  we  have  named, 

And,  while  thou  seek’st  to  purge  and  free  thy  soul, 
Use  judgment,  and  reflect  on  everything, 

Setting  o’er  all  best  Thought  as  charioteer. 

Be  glad  to  gather  goods,  nor  less  to  lose. 

Of  human  ills  that  spring  from  spirit-powers 
Endure  thy  part  nor  peevishly  complain. 

Cure  what  thou  canst :  ’tis  well,  and  then  reflect: 
“Fate  never  lays  too  much  upon  the  good.” 

Words  many,  brave  and  base,  assail  men’s  ears. 

Let  these  not  disconcert  or  trammel  thee  ; 

But  when  untruth  is  spoken,  meekly  yield. 

What  next  I  say  in  every  act  observe  : 

Let  none  by  word  or  deed  prevail  on.  thee 
To  do  or  say  what  were  not  best  for  thee. 

Think  ere  thou  act,  lest  foolish  things  be  done ; _ 

For  thoughtless  deeds  and  words  the  caitiff  mark  ;  — 
But  strongly  do  what  will  not  bring  regret. 

Do  naught  thou  dost  not  know  ;  but  duly  learn. 

So  shall  thy  life  with  happiness  o’erflow. 

Be  not  neglectful  of  thy  body’s  health ; 

But  measure  use  in  drink,  food,  exercise  — 

I  mean  by  ‘  measure  ’  what  brings  no  distress. 

Eollow  a  cleanly,  simple  mode  of  life, 

And  guard  against  such  acts  as  envy  breed. 


PYTHAGORAS 


59 


Then,  if,  when  thou  the  body  leav’st,  thou  mount 
To  the  free  ether,  deathless  shalt  thou  be, 

A  god  immortal,  —  mortal  never  more  ! 

In  this  system  six  things  are  noteworthy:  (1)  Its 
comprehensiveness,  in  that  it  takes  account  of  man’s 
whole  nature,  —  body,  soul,  and  spirit;  affections, 
intellect,  and  will,  and  of  all  his  relations  —  to  gods 
and  men,  to  self  and  nature:  (2)  Its  aimfulness,  in 
that  it  promises  happiness  here  and  blessedness  here¬ 
after,  as  the  reward  of  right  living:  (3)  Its  piety,  in 
that  it  everywhere  recognizes  the  need  of  divine  assist¬ 
ance:  (4)  Its  appreciation  of  science,  as  insight  into  the 
nature  and  grounds  of  multiplicity  and  unity :  (5)  Its 
stress  laid  on  right  doing,  as  the  condition  of  right 
knowing:  (6)  Its  belief  in  man’s  divinity  and  perfec¬ 
tibility.  It  is  curious  that  the  poem  contains  no 
reference  to  the  doctrine  of  metempsychosis,  which 
might  apparently  have  been  appealed  to  as  a  power¬ 
ful  moral  sanction. 

That  a  system  like  that  of  Pythagoras,  combining 
the  religious,  the  mystical,  the  scientific,  the  ethical, 
and  the  social  tendencies  of  the  Hellenic  mind, 
should  have  exerted  a  deep  and  abiding  influence,  need 
not  surprise  us.  We  find  profound  traces  of  it,  not 
only  in  all  subsequent  Greek  thought,  but  even  in 
foreign  systems,  such  as  Essenism,  whose  elements 
were  Hebrew  Nazarenism  and  Greek  Pythagoreanism. 
The  relations  between  Essenism  and  Christianity  have 
not  yet  been  determined.  Of  the  effect  of  Pythagoras’ 
teaching  on  Epaminondas  I  have  already  spoken. 


CHAPTER  V 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 

Let  me  now  give  an  account  of  the  Old  Education,  when  I,  utter¬ 
ing  words  of  justice,  was  in  my  prime,  and  self-control  was  held  in 
respect.  In  the  first  place,  a  child  was  not  allowed  to  be  heard 
uttering  a  grumble.  Then  all  the  boys  of  the  quarter  were  obliged 
to  march  in  a  body,  in  an  orderly  way  and  with  the  scantest  of 
clothing,  along  the  streets  to  the  music  master’s,  and  this  they  did 
even  if  it  snowed  like  barley-groats.  Then  they  were  set  to  rehearse 
a  song,  without  compressing  their  thighs,  —  either  “  Pallas,  mighty 
city-stormer,”  or  “  A  shout  sounding  far,”  putting  energy  into  the 
melody  which  their  fathers  handed  down.  And,  if  any  one  attempted 
any  fooling,  or  any  of  those  trills  like  the  difficult  inflexions  a  la 
Phrynis  now  in  vogue,  he  received  a  good  threshing  for  his  pains, 
as  having  insulted  the  Muses.  Again,  at  the  physical  trainer  s,  the 
boys,  while  sitting,  were  obliged  to  keep  their  legs  in  front  of 
them.  .  .  .  And  at  dinner  they  were  not  allowed  to  pick  out  the 
best  radish-head,  or  to  snatch  away  anise  or  celery  from  their 
elders,  or  to  gourmandize  on  fish  and  field-fares,  or  to  sit  with  their 
legs  crossed.  .  .  .  Take  courage,  young  man,  and  choose  me,  the 
Better  Reason,  and  you  shall  know  how  to  hate  the  public  square, 
to  avoid  the  bath-houses,  to  be  ashamed  of  what  is  shameful,  to 
show  temper  when  any  one  addresses  you  in  ribald  language,  to 
rise  from  your  seat  when  your  elders  approach,  and  not  to  be  a 
lubber  to  your  own  parents,  or  to  do  any  other  unseemly  thing  to 
mar  the  image  of  Modesty,  or  to  rush  to  the  house  of  the  dancing- 
girl,  and,  while  you  are  gaping  at  her  performances,  get  struck  with 
an  apple  by  a  wench  and  fall  from  your  fair  fame,  or  to  talk  back 
to  your  father,  or,  addressing  him  as  Japhet,  to  revile  the  old  age 
which  made  the  nest  for  you.  .  .  .  Then,  fresh  and  blooming,  you 
will  spend  your  time  in  the  gymnasia,  and  not  go  about  the  public 
square,  mouthing  monstrous  jokes,  like  the  young  men  of  to-day, 
or  getting  dragged  into  slippery,  gumshon-bamboozling  disputes, 
but,  going  down  to  the  Academy,  with  some  worthy  companion  of 
60 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 


G1 


your  own  age,  you  will  start  a  running-match,  crowned  with  white 
reed,  smelling  of  smilax,  leisure  and  deciduous  white  poplar,  rejoic¬ 
ing  in  the  spring,  when  the  plane-tree  whispers  to  the  maple.  If 
you  do  the  things  which  I  enjoin,  and  give  your  mind  to  them,  you 
will  always  have  a  well-developed  chest,  a  clear  complexion,  broad 
shoulders,  and  a  short  tongue.  —  Aristophanes,  Clouds  ( Speech  of 
Right  Reason). 

In  their  systems  of  education,  some  states  strive  to  impart  a 
courageous  habit  to  their  people  from  their  very  childhood  by  a 
painful  and  laborious  training,  whereas  we,  though  living  in  a  free 
and  natural  way,  are  ready  to  meet  them  in  a  fair  field  with  no 
favor. —Pericles’  Funeral  Oration  ( Thucydides ). 

1  will  never  disgrace  these  sacred  arms,  nor  desert  my  companion 
in  the  ranks.  I  will  fight  for  temples  and  public  property,  both 
alone  and  with  many.  I  will  transmit  my  fatherland,  not  only  not 
less,  but  greater  and  better,  than  it  was  transmitted  to  me.  I  will 
obey  the  magistrates  who  may  at  any  time  he  in  power.  I  will 
observe  both  the  existing  laws  and  those  which  the  people  may 
unanimously  hereafter  make,  and,  if  any  person  seek  to  annul  the 
laws  or  to  set  them  at  nought,  I  will  do  my  best  to  prevent  him,  and 
will  defend  them  both  alone  and  with  many  (all?).  I  will  honor 
the  religion  of  my  fathers.  And  I  call  to  witness  Aglauros,  Enya- 
lios,  Ares,  Zeus,  Thallo,  Auxo,  and  Hegemone.  —  Oath  of  the  Athe¬ 
nian  Epheboi. 

Consider,  Men  of  Athens,  what  careful  provision  was  made  by 
Solon,  the  ancient  lawgiver,  by  Draco,  aud  other  lawgivers  of  that 
period,  for  the  cultivation  of  good  morals.  In  the  first  place,  they 
made  laws  to  secure  a  moral  education  for  our  children,  and  laid 
down,  in  plain  terms,  just  what  the  free-born  boy  should  study  and 
how  he  should  be  nurtured  ;  secondly,  they  made  regulations  re¬ 
garding  young  men ;  and,  thirdly,  with  regard  to  the  other  periods  of 
life  in  their  order,  including  both  private  persons  and  public  speak¬ 
ers  ;  and,  having  recorded  these  laws,  they  left  them  in  your  keeping, 
appointing  you  their  guardians.  —  AIschines  ( against  Timarchus) . 

If  systems  of  education  are  to  be  classified  accord¬ 
ing  to  their  results  —  and  these  are  perhaps  the  fairest 
test  —  then  the  “  Old  Education  ”  of  Athens  must  be 

i 

assigned  a  very  high  place.  The  character  which  she 


62 


ARISTOTLE 


displayed,  and  the  exploits  which  she  performed,  in 
the  early  decades  of  the  fifth  century  b.c.,  bear  une¬ 
quivocal  testimony  to  the  value  of  the  training  to 
which  her  citizens  had  previously  been  subjected. 
This  training  could  perhaps  hardly  be  better  charac¬ 
terized  than  by  the  word  “ puritanical.’7  The  men  who 
fought  at  Marathon,  Salamis,  and  Platsese  were  puri¬ 
tans,  trained,  in  a  hard  school,  to  fear  the  gods,  to 
respect  the  laws,  their  neighbors,  and  themselves,  to 
reverence  the  wisdom  of  experience,  to  despise  com¬ 
fort  and  vice,  and  to  do  honest  work.  They  were  not 
enfeebled  by  aesthetic  culture,  paralyzed  by  abstract 
thinking,  or  hardened  by  professional  training.  They 
were  educated  to  be  men,  friends,  and  citizens,  not  to 
be  mere  thinkers,  critics,  soldiers,  or  money-makers. 
It  was  against  a  small  band  of  such  men  that  the 
hosts  of  Persia  fought  in  vain. 

It  is  natural  that  this  “  Old  Education  ”  of  Athens 
should  have  a  special  interest  for  us,  inasmuch  as  it 
seems,  in  great  measure,  to  have  solved  the  problem 
that  must  be  uppermost  with  every  true  educator  and 
friend  of  education,  viz.  How  can  strong,  wise,  and 
good  men  be  produced?  For  this  reason,  as  also  be¬ 
cause  we  are  the  better  informed  regarding  the  educa¬ 
tional  system  of  Athens  than  that  of  any  other  Greek 
state,  it  seems  proper  to  devote  special  attention  to  it, 
treating  it  as  preeminently  Greek  education.  Indeed, 
whatever  is  permanently  valuable  in  Greek  education 
is  to  be  found  in  that  of  Athens,  other  systems  having 
mainly  but  an  historical  interest  for  us. 

In  comparing  the  education  of  Athens  with  that  of 
Sparta,  we  are  at  once  struck  with  two  great  distinc- 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 


63 


tions:  (1)  While  Spartan  education  is  public,  Athe¬ 
nian  education  is  mainly  private;  (2)  While  Sparta 
educates  for  war,  Athens  educates  for  peace.  As  to 
the  former  of  these,  it  is  not  a  little  remarkable  that, 
while  many  of  the  first  thinkers  of  Greece,  including 
Plato  and  Aristotle,  advocated  an  entirely  public  edu¬ 
cation,  Athens  never  adopted  it,  or  even  took  any  steps 
in  that  direction.  It  seems  as  if  the  Athenians  felt 
instinctively  that  socialistic  education,  by  relieving 
parents  of  the  responsibility  of  providing  for  the  edu¬ 
cation  of  their  own  children,  was  removing  a  strong 
moral  influence,  undermining  the  family,  and  jeop¬ 
ardizing  liberty.  Perhaps  the  example  of  Sparta 
was  not  without  its  influence.  No  liberty-loving  peo¬ 
ple,  such  as  the  Athenians  were,  would  consent  to 
merge  the  family  in  the  State,  or  to  sacrifice  private 
life  to  public  order.  As  to  the  second  distinction, 
which  was  all-pervasive,  it  divides  the  two  peoples  by 
an  impassable  gulf  and  assigns  them  to  two  different 
grades  of  civil izaton.  And  it  was  one  of  which  both 
peoples  were  entirely  conscious.  While  Sparta  rep¬ 
resented  her  ideal  by  a  chained  Ares,  Athens  found 
hers  in  a  Wingless  Victory,  a  form  of  Athena,  the 
divinity  of  political  and  industrial  wisdom.  As 
the  aim  of  Sparta  was  strength,  so  that  of  Athens 
was  Wisdom  —  the  wise  man  in  the  wise  state.  By  the 
“wise  man,”  was  meant  he  whose  entire  faculties  of 
body,  soul,  and  mind  were  proportionately  and  coor- 
dinately  developed;  by  the  “  wise  state,”  that  in  which 
each  class  of  the  population  performed  its  proper 
function,  and  occupied  its  proper  relation  toward  the 
rest,  and  this  without  any  excessive  exercise  of  author- 


04 


ARISTOTLE 


ity.  If  the  Spartan,  like  the  artificially  tamed  barba¬ 
rian,  submitted  to  living  by  rule  and  command,  the 
Athenian,  like  the  naturally  civilized  man,  delighted 
to  live  in  a  free  and  natural  way  (dm/xeVws  Siairdcr#ai) 
governed  from  within,  and  not  from  without.  To 
make  possible  such  life  was  the  aim  of  Athenian  edu¬ 
cation,  which,  instead  of  seeking  to  merge  the  man 
in  the  State,  or  to  rend  the  two  asunder,  treated  them 
as  necessary  correlates  and  strove  to  balance  their 
claims. 

The  endeavor  on  the  part  of  Athens  to  steer  a  mid¬ 
dle  course  between  socialism  and  individualism,  is 
manifest  in  the  fact  that,  though  she  had  no  public  sys¬ 
tem  of  education,  she  took  great  care  to  see  that  her 
citizens  were  thoroughly  educated  in  the  spirit  of  her 
institutions,  and,  indeed,  made  such  education  a  condi¬ 
tion  of  citizenship,  which  was  thus  an  academic  degree, 
conferred  only  after  careful  examination.  By  a  law 
of  Solon’s,  parents  who  had  failed  to  give  their  sons 
a  proper  education  lost  all  claim  upon  them  for  sup¬ 
port  in  their  old  age.  Furthermore,  Athens  subjected 
all  her  male  citizens  to  a  systematic  preparation  for 
civil  and  military  functions,  before  she  allowed  them 
to  exercise  these. 

Athenian  education  comprised  four  grades  corre¬ 
sponding  to  four  institutions,  (1)  the  family,  (2)  the 
school,  (3)  the  gymnasium  or  college,  (4)  the  State. 
We  may  consider  these  in  their  order. 

(1)  Family  Education. 

The  birth  of  a  child  was  regarded  by  the  Athenians 
as  a  joyful  event,  as  something  calling  for  gratitude 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 


65 


to  the  gods.  This  expressed  itself  in  a  family  festival, 
called  the  Amphidromia,  celebrated  usually  ou  the 
seventh  day  after  the  birth.  On  this  occasion,  the 
child  was  carried  rapidly  round  the  family  altar  and 
received  its  name.  A  sacrifice  was  then  offered  to  the 
gods,  the  mother  was  purified,  and  christening  presents 
were  displayed.  The  child  was  now  a  member  of  the 
family  and  under  the  protection  of  its  gods.  For  the 
next  seven  years,  it  was  wholly  in  the  hands  of  parents 
and  nurses,  the  latter  being  usually  slaves.  During 
this  time  its  body  was  the  chief  object  of  care,  and 
everything  seems  to  have  been  done  to  render  it 
healthy  and  hardy.  Cradles  do  not  seem  to  have  been 
in  use,  and  the  child  was  sung  to  sleep  on  the  nurse’s 
knee.  While  it  was  being  weaned,  it  was  fed  on  milk 
and  soft  food  sweetened  with  honey.  As  soon  as  it 
was  able  to  move  about  and  direct  attention  to  external 
objects,  it  received  playthings,  such  as  rattles,  dolls 
of  clay  or  wax,  hobby-horses,  etc.,  and  was  allowed 
to  roll  and  dig  in  the  sand.  Such  were  the  simple 
gymnastics  of  this  early  period.  As  to  the  other 
branch  of  education,  it  consisted  mostly  in  being  sung 
to  and  in  listening  to  stories  about  gods  and  heroes, 
monsters  and  robbers,  of  which  Greek  mythology  was 
full.  By  means  of  these  the  child’s  imagination  was 
roused  and  developed,  and  certain  aesthetic,  ethical, 
and  national  prepossessions  awakened.  Though  chil¬ 
dren  were  often  frightened  from  certain  acts  and 
habits  by  threats  of  bogles  coming  to  carry  them  off, 
yet  the  chief  ethical  agency  employed  was  evidently 
strict  discipline.  To  secure  good  behavior  in  his 
children  was  the  first  care  of  the  Athenian  parent. 


66 


ARISTOTLE 


Though  disinclined  to  harshness,  he  never  doubted 
that  “he  who  spareth  the  rod  hateth  the  child.” 
Children  were  never  placed  upon  exhibition  or  ap¬ 
plauded  for  their  precocious  or  irreverent  sayings. 
They  were  kept  as  much  as  possible  out  of  the  way  of 
older  people,  and,  when  necessity  brought  them  into 
the  presence  of  these,  they  were  taught  to  behave 
themselves  quietly  and  modestly.  JSTo  Greek  author 
has  preserved  for  us  a  collection  of  the  smart  sayings 
or  roguish  doings  of  Athenian  children. 

Though  the  Kindergarten  did  not  exist  in  those 
old  days,  yet  its  place  was,  in  great  measure,  filled  by 
the  numerous  games  in  which  the  children  engaged, 
in  part  at  least  under  their  nurses’  superintendence. 
Games  played  so  important  a  part  in  the  whole  life  of 
the  Greek  people,  and  especially  of  the  Athenians, 
that  their  importance  in  the  education  of  children 
was  fully  recognized  and  much  attention  devoted  to 
them.  During  play,  character  both  displays  itself 
more  fully,  and  is  more  easily  and  deeply  affected,  than 
at  any  other  time;  and,  since  the  whole  of  the  waking 
life  of  the  child  in  its  earliest  years  is  devoted  to  play, 
this  is  the  time  when  character  is  formed,  and  there¬ 
fore  the  time  which  calls  for  most  sedulous  care.  In 
playing  games,  children  not  only  exercise  their  bodies 
and  their  wits;  they  also  learn  to  act  with  fairness, 
and  come  to  feel  something  of  the  joy  that  arises  from 
companionship  and  friendly  rivalry  in  a  common  occu¬ 
pation.  Moreover,  as  games  have  no  end  beyond 
themselves,  they  are  admirable  exercises  in  free,  dis¬ 
interested  activity  and  a  protection  against  selfish  and 
sordid  habits.  Of  all  this  the  Athenians  were  fully 
aware. 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 


67 


There  are  probably  few  games  played  by  children 
in  our  day  that  were  not  known  in  ancient  Athens. 
It  seems,  however,  that  games  were  there  conducted 
with  more  system,  and  a  deeper  sense  of  their  peda¬ 
gogical  value,  than  they  are  with  us.  We  hear  of 
running,  leaping,  hopping,  catching,  hitting,  and 
throwing  games,  gymnastic  games,  and  games  of 
chance.  The  ball,  the  top,  the  hoop,  the  swing,  the 
see-saw,  the  skipping  rope,  the  knuckle-bones  were 
as  much  in  use  in  ancient,  as  in  modern,  times.  Cards, 
of  course,  there  were  not;  and,  indeed,  games  of 
chance,  though  well  known,  seem  rarely  to  have  been 
indulged  in  by  children.  It  hardly  seems  necessary  to 
‘remark  that  there  were  some  games  peculiar  to  boys 
and  others  to  girls,  and  that  the  latter  were  less  rude 
than  the  former.  Doubtless,  too,  the  games  played 
in  the  city,  where  the  children  would  have  few  chances 
of  going  beyond  their  homes,  were  different  from 
those  played  in  the  country,  where  almost  complete 
freedom  to  roam  in  the  open  air  was  enjoyed.  We 
must  always  bear  in  mind  that  well-to-do  Athenian 
families  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  year  at  their 
country-houses,  which,  with  few  exceptions,  were  so 
near  the  city  that  they  could  be  reached  even  on  foot 
in  a  single  day.  This  country  life  had  a  marked 
effect  upon  the  education  of  Athenian  children. 

(2)  School  Education. 

About  the  age  of  seven,  the  Athenian  boy,  after 
being  entered  on  the  roll  of  prospective  citizens  in  the 
temple  of  Apollo  Patroos,  and  made  a  member  of  a 


68 


ARISTOTLE 


phratria,  went  to  school,  or,  rather,  he  went  to  two 
schools,  that  of  the  music-master,  and  that  of  the 
physical  trainer.  He  was  always  accompanied  thither 
and  back  by  a  pedagogue,  who  was  usually  a  slave, 
who  carried  his  writing-materials,  his  lyre,  etc.  (there 
being  no  school-books  to  carry),  and  whom  he  was 
expected  implicitly  to  obey.  The  boys  of  each 
quarter  of  the  city  collected  every  morning  at  some 
appointed  place  and  walked  to  school,  like  little  sol¬ 
diers,  in  rank  and  file.  They  wore  next  to  no  cloth¬ 
ing,  even  in  the  coldest  weather,  and  were  obliged  to 
conduct  themselves  very  demurely  in  the  streets. 
The  school  hours  were  very  long,  beginning  early  in 
the  morning  and  continuing  till  late  in  the  evening. 
Solon  found  it  necessary  to  introduce  a  law  forbidding 
schoolmasters  to  have  their  schools  open  before  sun¬ 
rise  or  after  sunset.  It  thus  appears  that  boys,  after 
the  age  of  seven,  spent  their  whole  day  at  school,  and 
were  thus  early  withdrawn  from  the  influence  of  their 
mothers  and  sisters,  a  fact  which  was  not  without 
its  bearing  upon  morals. 

There  are  several  interesting  points  in  connection 
with  Athenian  school  life  about  which  our  informa¬ 
tion  is  so  scanty  that  we  are  left  in  some  doubt 
respecting  them.  For  example,  though  it  is  quite 
plain  that  Athens  had  no  system  of  public  instruction, 
it  is  not  so  clear  that  she  did  not  own  the  school 
buildings.  Again,  it  is  not  certain  whether  music 
(including  letters)  and  gymnastics  were,  or  were  not, 
taught  in  the  same  locality.  Thirdly,  there  is  some 
doubt  about  the  number  and  order  of  the  hours  de¬ 
voted  to  each  of  the  two  branches  of  study.  In  regard 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 


69 


to  these  points  I  can  state  only  what  seems  to  me  most 
probable. 

As  to  school  buildings,  we  are  expressly  told  by  the 
author  of  the  fragmentary  tract  on  The  Athenian  State , 
currently  attributed  to  Xenophon,  but  probably  writ¬ 
ten  as  early  as  b.c.  424,  that  “the  people  ( Srjfxos ) 
builds  itself  many  palsestras,  dressing-rooms,  baths, 
and  the  masses  have  more  enjoyment  of  these  than 
the  few  that  are  well-to-do.”  If  we  assume  that 
some  of  these  palmstras  were  for  boys,  as  we  appar¬ 
ently  have  a  right  to  do,  we  must  conclude  that 
some,  at  least,  if  not  all,  of  the  schools  for  bodily 
training  were  public  edifices,  let  out  by  the  State  to 
teachers.  Like  all  the  great  gymnasia,  some,  and 
possibly  all,  of  them  were  situated  outside  the  city 
walls  and  had  gardens  attached  to  them.  Whether 
the  music-schools  were  so  likewise,  is  doubtful,  and 
this  brings  us  to  our  second  question  —  whether  the 
two  branches  of  education  were  taught  in  the  same 
place.  That  they  were  not  taught  in  the  same  room, 
or  by  the  same  person,  is  clear  enough;  but  it  does 
not  follow  from  this  that  they  were  not  taught  in  the 
same  building,  or  at  any  rate  in  the  same  enclosed 
space.  Though  there  seems  to  be  no  explicit  state¬ 
ment  in  any  ancient  author  on  this  point,  I  think  there 
are  sufficient  reasons  for  concluding  that,  generally 
at  least,  they  were  so  taught.  If  we  find  that  Antis- 
thenes,  Plato,  and  Aristotle,  who  may  be  said  to  have 
introduced  a  systematic  “  higher  education  ”  into 
Athens,  opened  their  schools  in  the  great  public 
gymnasia,  frequented  by  youths  and  men,  we  may 
surely  conclude  that  the  lower  mental  education  was 


70 


ARISTOTLE 


not  separated  from  the  physical.  In  the  Lysis  of 
Plato,  we  find  some  young  men  coming  out  of  a  palaes¬ 
tra  outside  the  city  walls,  and  inviting  Socrates  to 
enter,  telling  him  that  their  occupation  (Star pi/3y) 
consists  mostly  in  discussions  (ra  ttoAAoi  iv  A dyots),  and 
that  their  teacher  is  a  certain  Miccus,  an  admirer  of 
his.  Socrates  recognizes  the  man  as  a  capable 
“sophist,”  a  term  never  used  of  physical  trainers. 
On  entering,  Socrates  finds  a  number  of  boys  and 
youths  (veavL(TKoi)  playing  together,  the  former  having 
just  finished  a  sacrifice.  It  seems  to  follow  directly 
from  this  that  intellectual  education  was  imparted  in 
the  palsestras.  If  this  be  true,  we  may,  I  think,  con¬ 
clude  that  in  Athens  the  schools  generally  were  out¬ 
side  the  city  walls,  though  the  case  was  certainly 
different  in  some  other  cities. 

In  regard  to  our  third  question,  it  is  clear  that,  if 
boys  spent  their  whole  day  in  one  place,  it  would  be 
more  easy  to  divide  it  profitably  between  musical 
instruction  and  gymnastics  than  if  they  spent  one 
part  of  it  in  one  place,  and  another  in  another.  Just 
how  it  was  divided,  we  do  not  know,  and  I  have  little 
doubt  that  much  depended  upon  the  notions  of  parents 
and  the  tendencies  of  different  periods.  It  is  quite 
clear,  from  certain  complaints  of  Aristotle’s,  that  in 
Athens  parents  enjoyed  great  liberty  in  this  matter. 
In  any  case,  since,  as  we  know,  the  institutions  of 
education  were  open  all  day,  it  seems  more  than  prob¬ 
able  that  one  class  of  boys  took  their  gymnastic  lesson 
at  one  hour,  another  at  another,  and  so  with  other 
branches  of  study.  It  cannot  be  that  the  physical 
training-schools  were  deserted  when  the  music-schools 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 


71 


were  in  session.  I  think  there  is  sufficient  reason  for 
believing  that,  generally,  the  younger  boys  took  their 
physical  exercises  in  the  morning,  and  their  intellec¬ 
tual  instruction  in  the  afternoon,  the  order  being 
reversed  in  the  case  of  the  older  boys.  How  much  of 
the  time  spent  at  school  was  given  up  to  lessons  and 
how  much  to  play,  is  not  at  all  clear;  but  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  the  playtime  was  at  least  as 
long  as  the  worktime.  The  schools  were  for  boys 
what  the  agora  and  the  gymnasium  were  for  grown 
men  —  the  place  where  their  lives  were  spent. 

Before  we  consider  separately  the  two  divisions  of 
Athenian  education,  a  few  facts  common  to  them  may 
be  mentioned.  In  the  first  place,  they  had  a  common 
end,  which  was,  to  produce  men  independent  but 
respectful,  freedom-loving  but  law-abiding,  healthy 
in  mind  and  body,  clear  in  thought,  ready  in  action, 
and  devoted  to  their  families,  their  fatherland,  and 
their  gods.  Contrary  to  the  practice  of  the  Romans, 
the  Athenians  sought  to  prepare  their  sons  for  inde¬ 
pendent  citizenship  at  as  early  an  age  as  possible.  In 
the  second  place,  the  motives  employed  in  both 
divisions  were  the  same,  viz.  fear  of  punishment  and 
hope  of  reward.  As  we  have  seen,  the  Athenian  boy, 
if  he  behaved  badly,  was  not  spared  the  rod.  As  an 
offset  against  this,  when  he  did  well,  he  received 
unstinted  praise,  not  to  speak  of  more  substantial 
things.  Education,  like  everything  else  in  Greece, 
took  the  form  of  competition.  The  Homeric  line 
(II. ,  vi,  208;  xi,  784), 

“  See  that  thou  ever  be  best,  and  above  all  others  distinguished,” 


72 


ARISTOTLE 


was  the  motto  of  the  Athenian  in  everything.  In 
the  third  place,  in  both  divisions  the  chief  aim  was 
the  realization  of  capacity,  not  the  furthering  of 
acquisition.  Mere  learning  and  execution  were  almost 
universally  despised  in  the  old  time,  while  intelli¬ 
gence  and  capacity  were  universally  admired.  In 
the  fourth  place,  in  both  divisions  the  utmost  care 
was  directed  to  the  conduct  of  the  pupils,  so  that 
it  might  be  gentle,  dignified,  and  rational.  In  the 
fifth,  place,  education  in  both  its  branches  was  in¬ 
tended  to  enable  men  to  occupy  worthily  and  soci¬ 
ably  their  leisure  time,  quite  as  much  as  to  prepare 
them  for  what  might  be  called  their  practical  duties 
in  family,  society,  and  State.  The  fine  arts,  accord¬ 
ing  to  the  Greeks,  furnished  the  proper  amusements 
for  educated  men  (7re7rat8£v/xeVot) . 

(a)  Musical  ( and  Literary )  Instruction. 

Though  the  Greek  word  music  ( fjLovo-iKrj )  came  in 
later  times  to  have  an  extended  meaning,  in  the  epoch 
of  which  we  are  treating,  it  included  only  music  in 
our  sense,  and  poetry,  two  things  which  were  not 
then  separated.  Aristophanes,  as  late  as  b.c.  422,  can 
still  count  upon  an  audience  ready  to  laugh  at  the 
idea  of  giving  instruction  in  astronomy  and  geometry, 
as  things  too  remote  from  human  interests  ( Clouds , 
vv  220  sqq.).  The  poetry  consisted  chiefly  of  the 
epics  of  Homer  and  Hesiod,  the  elegiacs  of  Tyrtaeus, 
Solon,  Theognis,  etc.,  the  iambics  of  Archilochus, 
Simonides,  etc.,  and  the  songs  of  the  numerous  lyr¬ 
ists,  Terpander,  Arion,  Alcaeus,  Aleman,  Sappho, 
Simonides,  etc.  The  music  was  simple,  meant  to 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 


73 


“sweeten”  (fjSvveLv)  the  words  and  bring  out  their 
meaning.  In  fact,  the  music  and  the  poetry  were 
always  composed  together,  so  that  the  poet  was  nec¬ 
essarily  also  a  musician.  What  we  call  “  harmony  ” 
was  unknown  in  Greek  music  at  all  times,  and  instru¬ 
mental  music  was  almost  entirely  confined  to  solo¬ 
playing. 

In  treating  of  Athenian,  and,  indeed,  of  all  Greek, 
education,  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  realize 
that  the  intellectual  and  moral  part  of  it  has  music 
and  poetry  for  its  starting-point.  This  is  the  core 
round  which  everything  else  gathers;  this  is  what 
determines  its  character,  influence,  and  ideal.  Cul¬ 
ture,  as  distinguished  from  nature,  is  the  material 
of  Athenian  intellectual  and  moral  education;  and  by 
this  is  meant,  not  the  history  or  theory  of  culture,  as 
it  might  be  set  forth  in  prose,  but  culture  itself,  as 
embodied  in  the  ideals  and  forms  of  music- wedded 
poetry,  appealing  to  the  emotions  that  stir  the  will, 
as  well  as  to  the  intelligence  that  guides  it. 

By  making  the  works  of  the  great  poets  of  the 
Greek  people  the  material  of  their  education,  the 
Athenians  attained  a  variety  of  objects  difficult  of 
attainment  by  any  other  one  means.  The  fact  is,  the 
ancient  poetry  of  Greece,  with  its  finished  form,  its 
heroic  tales  and  characters,  its  accounts  of  peoples  far 
removed  in  time  and  space,  its  manliness  and  pathos, 
its  directness  and  simplicity,  its  piety  and  wisdom, 
its  respect  for  law  and  order,  combined  with  its  admir¬ 
ation  for  personal  initiative  and  worth,  furnished, 
in  the  hands  of  a  careful  and  genial  teacher,  a  material 
for  a  complete  education  such  as  could  not  well  be 


74 


ARISTOTLE 


matched  even  in  our  own  day.  What  instruction  in 
ethics,  politics,  social  life,  and  manly  bearing  could 
not  find  a  fitting  vehicle  in  the  Homeric  poems,  not 
to  speak  of  the  geography,  the  grammar,  the  literary 
criticism,  and  the  history  which  the  comprehension  of 
them  involved?  Into  what  a  wholesome,  unsentimen¬ 
tal,  free  world  did  these  poems  introduce  the  imagina¬ 
tive  Greek  boy !  What  splendid  ideals  of  manhood  and 
womanhood  did  they  hold  up  for  his  admiration  and 
imitation!  From  Hesiod  he  would  learn  all  that  he 
needed  to  know  about  his  gods  and  their  relation  to 
him  and  his  people.  From  the  elegiac  poets  he  would 
derive  a  fund  of  political  and  social  wisdom,  and  an 
impetus  to  partiotism,  which  would  go  far  to  make 
him  a  good  man  and  a  good  citizen.  From  the  iambic 
poets  he  would  learn  to  express  with  energy  his 
indignation  at  meanness,  feebleness,  wrong,  and 
tyranny,  while  from  the  lyric  poets  he  would  learn 
the  language  suitable  to  every  genial  feeling  and 
impulse  of  the  human  heart.  And  in  reciting  or  sing¬ 
ing  all  these,  how  would  his  power  of  terse,  idiomatic 
expression,  his  sense  of  poetic  beauty  and  his  ear  for 
rhythm  and  music  be  developed!  With  what  a  treas¬ 
ure  of  examples  of  every  virtue  and  vice,  and  with 
what  a  fund  of  epigrammatic  expression  would  his 
memory  be  furnished!  How  familiar  he  would  be 
with  the  character  and  ideals  of  his  nation,  how  deeply 
in  sympathy  with  them!  And  all  this  was  possible 
even  before  the  introduction  of  letters.  With  this 
event  a  new  era  in  education  begins.  The  boy  now 
not  only  ]  earns  and  declaims  his  Homer,  and  sings  his 
Simonides  or  Sappho,  he  learns  also  to  write  down 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 


75 


their  verses  from  dictation,  and  so  at  once  to  read  and 
to  write.  This,  indeed,  was  the  way  in  which  these 
two  (to  us)  fundamental  arts  were  acquired.  As  soon 
as  the  boy  could  trace  with  his  finger  in  sand,  or 
scratch  with  a  stylus  on  wax,  the  forms  of  the  letters, 
and  combine  them  into  syllables  and  words,  he  began, 
to  write  poetry  from  his  master’s  dictation.  The 
writing-lesson  of  to-day  was  the  reading,  recitation, 
or  singing-lesson  of  to-morrow.  Every  boy  made  his 
own  reading-book,  and,  if  lie  found  it  illegible,  and 
stumbled  in  reading,  he  had  only  himself  to  blame. 
The  Greeks,  and  especially  the  Athenians,  laid  the 
greatest  stress  upon  reading  well,  reciting  well,  and 
singing  well,  and  the  youth  who  could  not  do  all  the 
three  was  looked  upon  as  uncultured.  Nor  could  he 
hide  his  want  of  culture,  since  young  men  were  con¬ 
tinually  called  upon,  both  at  home  and  at  more  or  less 
public  gatherings,  to  perform  their  part  in  the  social 
entertainment. 

The  strictly  musical  instruction  of  this  period  was 
almost  entirely  confined  to  simple,  strong  Doric  airs, 
sung  to  an  accompaniment  which  was  played  on  an 
instrument  closely  resembling  the  modern  guitar  (Xvpa, 
KiOapis) .  Complicated  and  wind  instruments  were 
unpopular,  and  the  softer  or  more  thrilling  kinds  of 
music,  Lydian,  Phrygian,  etc.,  had  not  yet  been 
introduced,  at  least  into  schools.  Anything  like  the 
skill  and  execution  demanded  of  professional  players, 
who  were  usually  slaves  or  foreigners,  was  considered 
altogether  unworthy  of  a  free  man  and  a  citizen,  and 
was  therefore  not  aimed  at.  Pond  as  the  Athenians 
were  of  the  fine  arts,  they  always  held  professional 


76 


ARISTOTLE 


skill  in  any  of  them,  except  poetry  and  musical  com¬ 
position,  to  be  incompatible  with  that  dignity  and 
virtue  which  they  demanded  of  the  free  citizen.  A 
respectable  Athenian  would  no  more  have  allowed  his 
son  to  be  a  professional  musician  than  he  would  have 
allowed  him  to  be  a  professional  acrobat. 

It  is  difficult  for  us  to  understand  the  way  in  which 
the  Greeks  regarded  music.  Inferior  as  their  music 
was  to  ours  in  all  technical  ways,  it  exerted  an  influ¬ 
ence  upon  their  lives  of  which  we  can  form  but  a  faint 
conception.  To  them  it  was  a  daemonic  power,  capa¬ 
ble  of  rousing  or  assuaging  the  passions,  and  hence  of 
being  used  for  infinite  good  or  evil.  No  wonder,  then, 
that  in  their  education  they  sought  to  employ  those 
kinds  which  tended  to  “  purgation  ”  (KaOapcris),  and 
to  avoid  those  that  were  exciting,  sentimental,  or 
effeminate!  No  wonder  that  they  disapproved  of 
divorcing  music  from  the  intellectual  element  con¬ 
tained  in  the  words,  and  allowing  it  to  degenerate 
into  a  mere  emotional  or  sensual  luxury !  Music  the 
Greeks  regarded,  not  indeed  as  a  moral  force  (a 
phrase  that  to  them,  who  regarded  morality  as  a  mat¬ 
ter  of  the  will,  would  have  conveyed  no  meaning),  but 
as  a  force  whose  office  it  was,  by  purging  and  harmo¬ 
nizing  the  human  being,  to  make  him  a  fit  subject  for 
moral  instruction.  Music,  they  held,  brought  har¬ 
mony,  first  into  the  human  being  himself,  by  putting 
an  end  to  the  conflict  between  his  passions  and  his 
intelligent  will,  and  then,  as  a  consequence,  into  his 
relations  with  his  fellows.  Harmony  within  was  held 
to  be  the  condition  of  harmony  without. 

In  the  period  of  which  I  am  speaking,  no  distinc- 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 


77 


tion  was  yet  made  between  music  and  literature  (ypd/x- 
fxaTa) ,  both  being  taught  by  the  citharist  (KLOapLo-rrjs) . 
Indeed,  the  term  for  teacher  of  literature  (ypappaTLa-Tyi) 
was  not  then  invented.  But  the  citharist  not  only 
taught  literature :  he  also  taught  the  elements  of 
arithmetic,  a  matter  of  no  small  difficulty,  consider¬ 
ing  the  clumsy  notation  then  in  use.  This  was  done 
by  means  of  pebbles,  a  box  of  sand,  or  an  abacus 
similar  in  principle  to  that  now  used  by  billiard 
players  to  keep  count  of  their  strokes. 

As  to  the  schoolrooms  in  ancient  Athens,  they 
were  apparently  simple  in  the  extreme ;  indeed,  rather 
porches  open  to  sun  and  wind  than  rooms  in  the 
modern  sense.  They  contained  little  or  no  furniture. 
The  boys  sat  upon  the  ground  or  upon  low  benches, 
like  steps  (fiaOpa),  while  the  teacher  occupied  a  high 
chair  (dpwos) .  The  benches  were  washed,  apparently 
every  day,  with  sponges.  The  only  decorations  per¬ 
mitted  in  the  schoolrooms,  it  seems,  were  statues  or 
statuettes  of  the  Muses  and  Apollo,  and  the  school 
festivals  or  exhibitions  were  regarded  as  festivals  in 
honor  of  these.  Indeed,  in  Greece  every  sort  of  fes¬ 
tival  was  regarded  as  an  act  of  worship  to  some  divin¬ 
ity.  The  chief  school  festival  seems  to  have  been 
the  Musea  (povo-eia),  at  which  the  boys  recited  and 
sang. 

(/?)  Gymnastics  or  Bodily  Training. 

Under  the  term  Gymnastics  (yvpvao-TLKrj),  the  Greeks 
generally  included  everything  relating  to  the  culture 
of  the  body.  The  ends  which  the  Athenians  sought  to 
reach  through  this  branch  of  education  were  health, 


78 


ARISTOTLE 


strength,  adroitness,  ease,  self-possession,  and  firm, 
dignified  bearing.  A  certain  number  of  boys,  intend¬ 
ing  to  take  part  in  the  Olympic  and  other  great  games, 
were  allowed  to  train  as  athletes  under  a  gymnast 
(yvfxvacTTrjs,  aXuirT^)  in  the  public  gymnasia,  and  under 
the  direction  of  the  State;  but  these  were  exceptions. 
The  athlete  was  not  an  ideal  person  at  Athens,  as  he 
was  at  Thebes  and  Sparta. 

Gymnastic  exercises  were  conducted  partly  in  the 
palsestras,  or  wrestling  schools,  partly  on  the  race¬ 
courses,  both  of  which  were  under  the  direction  of 
professional  trainers  (7rca8oTpL/3aL) .  In  early  times, 
the  palaestra  and  race-course  were  simply  an  open 
space  covered  with  sand  and  probably  connected  with 
the  school  (SiSao-KoAeiov),  thus  corresponding  to  our 
playground.  Later,  this  space  was  partly  covered 
over  and  furnished  with  dressing-rooms,  a  bath,  seats 
for  spectators,  an  altar  for  sacrifices,  statues,  etc.  Of 
the  five  gymnastic  exercises  in  which  boys  were 
trained,  all  except  wrestling  seem  to  have  been  con¬ 
ducted  on  the  race-course,  so  that  the  palaestra  was 
reserved  for  what  its  name  implied.  It  is  by  no  neans 
certain  that  every  palaestra  had  a  race-course  con¬ 
nected  with  it,  at  least  in  the  time  of  which  we  are 
speaking,  and  possibly  in  many  cases  the  boys  took 
part  of  their  exercises  in  the  public  race-course  run¬ 
ning  from  the  agora  to  beyond  the  walls.  Just  as 
the  schoolroom  was  decorated  with  images  of  Apollo 
and  the  Muses,  so  the  palaestra  was  decorated  with 
images  of  Hermes,  Heracles,  and  Eros,  symbolizing, 
respectively,  adroitness,  humane  strength,  and  youth¬ 
ful  friendship.  The  special  patron  of  the  palaestra 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 


79 


was  Hermes,  and  the  gymnastic  exhibition  took  the 
form  of  a  festival  to  him,  the  Hermsea,  at  which  a 
sacrifice  was  offered  and  the  boys  were  allowed  the 
use  of  the  building  to  play  games  in,  the  victors  wear¬ 
ing  crowns. 

It  would  be  impossible,  in  a  work  of  this  compass,  to 
enter  into  a  minute  description  of  all  the  exercises  of 
the  Athenian  palaestra.  We  must  be  content  with  a 
general  statement,  which  may  be  prefaced  with  the 
remark  that  these  exercises  were  at  first  light,  in¬ 
creasing  gradually  in  rigor  and  difficulty  as  the 
strength  and  skill  of  the  growing  child  permitted. 

The  chief  gymnastic  exercises  were  five,  named  in 
this  order  in  a  famous  line  of  Simonides :  (1)  leaping, 
(2)  running,  (3)  discus-throwing,  (4)  javelin-casting, 
(5)  wrestling  (ttolXt]),  which  last  gave  the  name  to  the 
palaestra.  We  shall  not  strictly  follow  this  order, 
but  begin  with 

(1)  Running. — This  was  the  simplest,  lightest,  most 
natural,  and,  therefore,  the  most  easily  taught  of  ex¬ 
ercises.  It  was  probably  also  the  oldest.  We  find 
even  Homer  making  his  ideal  Phaeacians  begin  their 
games  with  it,  and  this  practice  seems  to  have  been 
general  throughout  antiquity.  In  taking  this  exer¬ 
cise,  the  boys  divested  themselves  of  all  clothing  and 
had  their  bodies  rubbed  with  oil.  The  running  ap¬ 
pears  to  have  been  of  the  simplest  kind.  Hurdle- 
races,  sack-races,  etc.,  were  apparently  excluded  from 
education.  At  the  same  time,  the  running  was  ren¬ 
dered  difficult  by  the  soft  sand  with  which  the  course 
was  covered  to  the  depth  of  several  inches.  The  races 
were  distinguished  according  to  their  length  in  fur- 


80 


ARISTOTLE 


longs  or  stadia:  (1)  the  furlong-race,  (2)  the  double¬ 
furlong  race,  (3)  the  horse  (four-furlong)  race,  (4)  the 
long  race,  whose  length  seems  to  have  been  twenty- 
four  furlongs,  or  about  three  miles.  The  stadion  was 
=  202 1  yards  English.  The  shorter,  races  called  for 
brief  concentration  of  energy,  the  longer  for  persist¬ 
ence  and  endurance;  all  were  exercises  in  agility;  all 
tended  to  develop  lung-power. 

(2)  Leaping  or  Jumping.  —  This  exercise  seems,  in 
the  main,  to  have  confined  itself  to  the  long  leap. 
Though  the  high  leap  and  the  pole-jump  can  hardly 
have  been  unknown,  we  have  no  evidence  that  they 
were  ever  employed  in  the  gymnastic  training  of  boys. 
There  may  have  been  hygienic  reasons  which  forbade 
their  use.  On  the  other  hand,  boys  were  taught  to 
lengthen  their  leap  by  means  of  weights,  somewhat 
similar  to  our  dumb-bells,  carried  in  their  hands,  and 
swung  forward  in  the  act  of  leaping.  Such  leaping 
would  be  an  exercise  for  the  arms,  as  well  as  for  the 
legs  and  the  rest  of  the  body.  But,  just  as  there  were 
two  exercises  intended  chiefly  for  the  legs,  so  there 
were  two  intended  chiefly  for  the  arms  —  discus- 
throwing  and  javelin-casting. 

(3)  Discus-tlirowing.  —  The  modern  world  has  been 
rendered  very  familiar  with  the  method  of  this  exer¬ 
cise  by  the  copies  of  the  discobolus  of  Myron,  preserved 
in  Rome  and  extensively  engraved  and  photographed, 
and  that  of  the  discobolus  of  Alcamenes  which  now 
stands  in  the  Vatican  (see  Overbeck,  Griech.  Plastik 
vol.  i,  p.  276).  The  discus  was  generally  a  flat, 
round  piece  of  stone  or  metal,  a  sort  of  large  quoit 
with  no  hole  in  the  middle,  which  the  user  sought  to 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION  81 

throw  as  far  as  he  could.  The  discobolus  of  Alca- 
menes  shows  us  a  youth  balancing  the  discus  in  his 
left  hand,  and  taking  the  measure  of  his  throw  with 
his  eye;  that  of  Myron  shows  us  another  in  the  act  of 
throwing.  He  swings  the  discus  backward  in  his 
right  hand,  and  bends  his  body  forward  to  balance  it. 
His  right  foot,  the  toes  contracted  with  effort,  rests 
firmly  on  the  ground;  the  left  is  slightly  lifted;  the 
whole  body  is  like  a  bent  bow.  In  the  next  instant 
the  left  foot  will  advance,  the  left  hand,  now  resting 
on  the  right  knee,  will  swing  backwards,  the  body  will 
resume  its  erect  position,  and  the  discus  will  be  shot 
forward  from  the  right  hand  like  an  arrow.  Nothing 
could  show  more  clearly  than  does  this  statue  the  per¬ 
fect  organization,  symmetry,  and  balance  which  were 
the  aim  of  Greek  gymnastics.  Not  one  limb  could  be 
moved  without  affecting  all  the  rest,  — which  shows 
that  the  exercise  extended  to  the  whole  body. 

(4)  Javelin-casting .  —  The  aim  of  this  exercise  was 
to  develop  skill  and  precision  of  eye  and  hand,  rather 
than  strength  of  muscle.  The  instrument  employed 
was  a  short  dagger  or  lance,  which  was  aimed  at  a 
mark.  He  who  could  hit  the  mark  from  the  greatest 
distance  was  the  most  proficient  scholar.  The  spear, 
before  being  thrown,  was  balanced  in  the  right  hand 
at  the  height  of  the  ear. 

(o)  Wrestling.  This  very  complicated  exercise  was 
evidently  the  principal  one  in  the  gymnastic  course, 
the  one  to  which  the  others  were  merely  preparatory. 
It  was  the  only  one  which  a  boy  could  not  practice 
by  himself.  It  exercised  not  only  the  whole  body, 
but  the  patience  and  temper  as  well.  The  aim  of  the 


82 


ARISTOTLE 


wrestler  was  to  throw  (Kara/SdAAar)  his  antagonist. 
Those  who  took  part  in  this  exercise  had  their  bodies 
rubbed  with  oil  and  strewn  with  fine  sand.  It  seems 
that  the  wrestler  was  allowed  to  do  anything  he  chose 
to  his  antagonist  except  to  bite,  strike,  or  kick  him. 
Before  he  could  claim  the  victory  he  had  to  throw  him 
three  times.  After  the  contest  the  wrestlers  scraped 
from  their  bodies,  with  a  strigil,  the  oil  and  dust,1 
bathed,  were  again  rubbed  with  oil,  exposed  their 
bodies  to  the  sun,  in  order  to  dry  and  tan  them,  and 
dressed.  The  bathing  was  done  in  cold  water,  and 
both  the  bathing  and  the  sunning  were  in  part  in¬ 
tended  to  inure  the  body  to  sudden  cold  and  heat, 
which  inurement  was  considered  a  very  essential  part 
of  physical  training. 

Such  were  the  chief  exercises  employed  in  the  gym¬ 
nastic  training  of  the  Athenians.  Thus  far,  we  have 
considered  the  two  branches  of  education  as  conducted 
separately,  and  as  not  coming  at  any  point  in  contact 
with  each  other.  But  it  would  have  been  very  unlike 
the  Greek,  and  especially  the  Athenian,  to  leave  the 
two  divisions  of  education  unrelated  and  unharmo¬ 
nized.  And,  indeed,  he  did  not  so  leave  them,  but 
brought  them  together  in  the  most  admirable  way  in 
what  he  called  orchesis,  a  word  for  which  we  have  no 
better  equivalent  than 

(y)  Dancing  (opy^cn?,  yopos). 

“ Dancers,”  says  Aristotle,  “by  means  of  plastic 
rhythms  (rhythms  reproduced  in  plastic  forms)  imi- 

1  This  is  represented  in  the  charming  Apoxyomenos  of  the 
Vatican. 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION  83 

tate  characters,  feelings,  and  actions.”  Xenophon,  in 
his  Anabasis,  describing  a  banquet  that  took  place 
in  the  wilds  of  Paphlagonia,  says :  “  After  the  treaty 
was  ratified  and  the  paean  sung,  there  first  rose  up 
two  Thracians  and  danced  in  armor  to  the  flute,  leap- 
ing  high  and  lightly,  and  using  their  swords.  Finally 
one  of  them  struck  the  other,  so  that  everybody  thought 
he  had  wounded  him;  but  he  fell  in  an  artificial  way. 
Then  the  Paphlagonians  raised  a  shout;  but  the  as¬ 
sailant,  having  despoiled  the  fallen  man  of  his  armor, 
went  out  singing  the  Sitalcas.  Then  others  of  the 
Thracians  carried  out  the  other  as  if  he  had  been  dead; 
but  he  was  none  the  worse.  Next,  some  ^Enianes  and 
Magnesians  stood  up  and  danced  the  so-called  Carpsea 
in  armor.  The  manner  of  the  dance  was  this:  one 
man,  putting  his  arms  within  reach,  sows  and  drives 
a  team,  frequently  turning  round  as  if  afraid.  Then 
a  robber  makes  his  appearance.  As  soon  as  the  other 
espies  him,  he  seizes  his  arms,  advances  to  him,  and 
fights  in  front  of  the  team.  And  the  two  did  this 
keeping  time  to  the  flute.  Finally  the  robber,  having 
bound  the  other,  carries  off  both  him  and  the  team; 
sometimes,  on  the  contrary,  the  ploughman  binds  the 
robber,  in  which  case  he  yokes  him,  with  his  hands 
bound  behind  his  back,  to  his  oxen  and  drives  off.”* 
Several  other  dances,  performed  by  persons  of  differ¬ 
ent  nationalities,  follow;  but  enough  has  been  quoted 
to  show  that  the  Greek  opyr)<ns  was  something  very 
different  from  our  dancing.  It  was,  indeed,  a  panto¬ 
mimic  ballet,  interspersed  with  tableaux  vivans. 

In  the  dances  here  mentioned,  the  flute  is  the 
instrument  employed,  and  this  the  player  could  not 


84 


ARISTOTLE 


accompany  with  his  voice.  But  in  the  Athenian 
schools,  in  the  old  time,  the  flute,  and  all  music  with¬ 
out  words,  were  tabooed.  There  can  be  no  doubt, 
therefore,  that  in  these  the  orchestic  performances 
were  accompanied  by  the  lyre,  the  player  on  which 
sang  in  words  what  the  dancers  danced.  It  is  obvious 
that  in  such  performances  the  musical  (literary)  and 
gymnastic  branches  of  education  came  in  for  about 
equal  shares.  Dancing  exercised  the  whole  human 
being,  body  and  soul,  and  exercised  them  in  a  com¬ 
pletely  harmonious  way.  It  is  this  harmony,  this 
rhythmic  movement  of  the  body  in  consonance  with 
the  emotions  of  the  soul  and  the  purposes  of  the  in¬ 
telligence,  that  is  grace  (yd/ns).  Hence,  while  the 
Greeks  relied  upon  gymnastics  to  impart  strength  and 
firmness  to  the  body,  they  looked  to  dancing  for  court¬ 
liness  and  grace.  Plato  places  the  two  on  the  same 
footing,  as  parts  of  a  single  discipline. 

The  fact  that  the  two  divisions  of  education  met 
in  dancing  seems  to  prove  what  I  surmised  above, 
viz.  that  they  were  conducted  within  the  same  pre¬ 
cincts  ;  in  which  case  we  may  suppose  that,  while  the 
dancing  exercises  took  place  in  the  palaestra,  the  music 
was  supplied  by  the  music  master.  We  know  that 
the  chorus-leader  was  a  public  officer,  appointed  by 
the  demos,  and  had  to  be  over  forty  years  old.  In  any 
case,  it  is  curious  enough  to  think  that  Athenian,  and, 
generally,  Greek,  education  culminated  in  dancing. 
But  this  was  a  perfectly  logical  result;  for  the  chorus 
is  the  type  of  Greek  social  life,  as  we  see  most  clearly 
in  the  Republic  of  Plafo.  It  hardly  needs  to  be  pointed 
out  that  the  supreme  form  of  Greek  art,  the  drama, 


IONIAN  Oil  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 


85 


was  but  a  development  of  the  Bacchic  or  Dionysiac 
chorus.  This  development  consisted  in  the  separation 
of  the  music  from  the  pantom  ine,  and  the  assignment 
of  the  former  to  the  chorus,  which  no  longer  danced, 
but  walked,  and  of  the  latter  to  the  actors,  who  added 
the  dialogue  to  it.  Greek  life  was  divided  into  three 
parts  civil,  military,  religious.  Music  and  letters 
were  a  preparation  for  the  first,  gymnastics  for  the 
second,  and  dancing  for  the  third.  Dancing  formed  a 
prominent  part  in  Greek  worship,  and  it  may  be 
doubted  whether  free  Athenians  ever  danced  except 

before  the  gods  —  cv  rats  7rpos  rots  Qeovs  TrpocroSoLs,  as 
Xenophon  says. 

Iwo  things  still  remain  to  be  considered  with  regard 
to  Athenian  schools,  (1)  grading,  (2)  holidays.  With 
respect  to  the  former,  the  practice  probably  differed 
at  different  times;  but  we  seem  to  be  justified  in  as¬ 
suming  that,  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  speaking, 
there  were  but  two  grades,  boys  (muSes)  and  youths 
(veavLCTKOi).  These  are  mentioned  by  Plato,  in  the  Lysis , 
as  celebrating  the  Hermsea  together  in  a  pakestra. 
The  first  grade  would  include  the  boys  from  seven  to 
eleven  years  of  age;  the  second,  those  from  eleven  to 
fifteen.  As  to  holidays,  they  seem  to  have  been  sim¬ 
ply  the  feast-days  of  the  greater  gods,  when  business 
of  every  sort  was  suspended.  Such  days  amounted  to 
about  ninety  annually. 

(3)  College  Education. 

About  the  time  when  he  was  blossoming  into  man¬ 
hood,  that  is,  some  time  between  his  fourteenth  and  his 
sixteenth  year,  the  Athenian  boy  of  the  olden  time 


86 


ARISTOTLE 


was  transferred  from  tire  private  school  and  palaestra, 
which  belonged  to  the  family  side  of  life,  to  the  gym¬ 
nasium,  which  belonged  to  the  State,  and  in  which  he 
received  the  education  calculated  to  fit  him  for  the 
duties  of  a  citizen.  Having,  in  the  family  and  the 
school,  been  trained  to  be  a  gentleman  (xaAoKdya^os), 
he  must  now  be  trained  to  be  a  citizen,  capable  of 
exercising  legislative,  judicial,  and  military  functions. 
The  State  saw  to  it  that  he  received  this  training,  if 
his  parents  chose  and  could  afford  it. 

In  the  time  of  Solon,  about  b.c.  590,  two  great 
gymnasia,  the  Academy  and  Cynosarges,  were  erected 
in  the  midst  of  extensive  groves  outside  the  city 
walls.  These  groves  were  afterwards  surrounded 
with  high  walls,  furnished  with  seats  and  other  con¬ 
veniences,  and  turned  into  city  parks.  The  Academy, 
which  lay  to  the  northwest  of  the  city,  in  the  valley 
of  the  Cephisus,  and  was  under  the  patronage  of 
Athena,  was  the  resort  of  the  full-blooded  citizens, 
while  Cynosarges,  situated  to  the  east  of  the  city, 
near  the  foot  of  Lycabettus,  was  assigned  to  those 
who  had  foreign  blood  in  their  veins,  that  is,  who  had 
only  one  parent  of  pure  Athenian  stock.  This  gym¬ 
nasium  was  under  the  patronage  of  Heracles,  whose 
worship  always  implies  the  presence  of  a  foreign  and 
vanquished  element.  These  were  the  only  two  gym¬ 
nasia  belonging  to  Athens  before  the  time  of  Pericles. 
They#were,  probably,  destroyed  by  the  Persians  in 
480,  and  had  afterwards  to  be  rebuilt,  and  the  groves 
replanted. 

While  the  children  of  nearly  all  the  free  citizens  of 
Athens  attended  the  school  and  the  palaestra,  it  is 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION  87 

clear  that  only  the  youth  of  the  wealthier  classes 
attended  the  gymnasium.  One  result  of  this  was  that 
the  government  and  offices  of  the  State  fell  exclu¬ 
sively  into  the  hands  of  those  classes;  and  it  was 
perhaps  just  in  order  to  make  this  division,  without 
introducing  any  class-law,  that  the  shrewd  Solon 
established  the  gymnasia,  which  thus  became  a  bul¬ 
wark  against  democracy. 

As  soon  as  the  Athenian  youth  was  transferred  to 
the  gymnasium,  he  passed  from  under  the  charge  of 
the  pedagogue,  who  represented  the  family,  and  came 
under  the  direct  surveillance  of  the  State.  He  was 
now  free  to  go  where  he  would,  to  frequent  the  agora 
and  the  street,  to  attend  the  theatre,  in  which  he  had 
his  appointed  place,  and  to  make  himself  directly 
acquainted  with  all  the  details  of  public  life.  In  the 
gymnasium  he  passed  into  the  hands  of  a  gymnast  or 
scientific  trainer,  and  for  the  next  two  or  three  years 
was  subjected  to  the  severer  exercises,  wrestling,  box¬ 
ing,  etc.  No  special  provision,  beyond  the  fact  that 
he  had  to  learn  the  laws,  was  made  for  his  intellectual 
and  moial  instruction.  He  was  expected  to  acquire 
this  from  contact  with  the  older  citizens  whom  he  met 
in  the  agora,  the  street,  or  the  public  park.  Thus,  at 
what  is  justly  regarded  as  the  most  critical  age,  he 
was  almost  compelled  to  live  a  free,  breezy,  outdoor 
life,  full  of  activity  and  stirring  incident,  his  thoughts 
and  feelings  directed  outwards  into  acts  of  will,  and 
not  turned  back  upon  himself  or  his  own  states.  At 
the  same  time  he  was  acquiring  just  that  practical 
knowledge  of  ethical  laws  and  of  real  life  which  could 
best  fit  him  for  active  citizenship.  He  now  learnt  to 


88 


ARISTOTLE 


ride,  to  drive,  to  row,  to  swim,  to  attend  banquets, 
to  sustain  a  conversation,  to  discuss  the  weightiest 
questions  of  statesmanship,  to  sing  and  dance  in  pub¬ 
lic  choruses,  and  to  ride  or  walk  in  public  processions. 
If  he  abused  his  liberty  and  behaved  in  a  lawless  or 
unseemly  way,  he  was  called  to  account  by  the  severe 
Court  of  the  Areopagus,  which  attended  to  public 
morals.  'He  saw  little  of  girls  of  his  own  age,  except 
his  sisters,  unless  it  was  at  public  festivals,  when 
there  was  little  opportunity  of  becoming  acquainted 
with  them.  His  affectionate  nature  therefore  ex¬ 
pressed  itself  mostly  in  the  form  of  devoted  friend¬ 
ships  to  other  youths  of  his  own,  or  nearly  his  own, 
age,  a  fact  which  enables  us  to  understand  why  friend¬ 
ship  fills  so  large  a  space,  not  only  in  the  life,  but 
also  in  the  ethical  treatises  of  the  Greeks,  —  Plato, 
Aristotle,  etc.,  — and  why  love,  in  the  modern  sense, 
plays  so  insignificant  a  part.  The  truth  is  that,  even 
in  Athens,  the  State  encroached  upon  the  family. 
Plato’s  Republic  was  only  the  logical  carrying  out  of 
principles  that  were  latent  long  before  in  the  social 
life  of  the  Athenian  people. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  treat  in  detail  the  exer¬ 
cises  to  which  the  Athenian  youth  was  subjected 
during  the  years  in  which  he  attended  the  public 
gymnasium  as  a  pupil.  The  old  exercises  of  the 
palaestra  were  continued,  running  and  wrestling  espe¬ 
cially;  but  the  former  was  now  done  in  armor,  and 
the  latter  became  more  violent,  and  was  supplemented 
by  boxing.  In  fact,  the  physical  exercises  were  now 
systematized  into  the  pentathlon  —  running,  leaping, 
discus-throwing,  wrestling,  boxing  —  which  formed 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 


80 


the  programme  of  nearly  all  gymnastic  exhibitions. 
During  these  years,  the  youth  was  still  regarded  as  a 
minor,  and  his  father  or  guardian  was  responsible  for 
his  good  behavior.  But  when  he  reached  the  age  of 
eighteen,  a  change  took  place,  and  he  passed  under 
the  direct  control  of  the  State.  His  father  now 
brought  him  before  the  reeve  of  his  demos  (ward  or 
village),  as  a  candidate  for  independent  citizenship. 
If  he  proved  to  be  the  lawful  child  of  free  citizens, 
and  came  up  to  the  moral  and  physical  requirements 
of  the  law,  his  name  was  entered  upon  the  register  of 
the  demos,  and  he  became  a  member  of  it.  He  was 
now  prepared  to  be  presented  to  the  whole  people,  and 
to  pass  the  State  examination.  He  shore  his  long 
hair  for  the  first  time,  and  donned  the  black  garment 
of  the  citizen.  In  this  guise  he  presented  himself  to 
the  king-archon  of  the  State,  who,  at  a  public  assem¬ 
bly,  introduced  him,  along  with  others,  to  the  whole 
people.  He  was  then  and  there  armed  with  spear 
and  shield  (supplied  by  the  State  if  his  father  had 
fallen  in  war),  and  thence  proceeded  to  the  shrine  of 
Aglauros,  where,  looking  down  on  the  agora,  the  city, 
and  the  Attic  plain,  he  took  the  Solonian  oath  of 
citizenship  (see  p.  61).  He  was  now  technically 
an  ephebos,  cadet,  or  citizen-novice,  ready  to  undergo 
those  two  years  of  severe  discipline  which  at  once 
formed  his  introduction  to  practical  affairs,  and  con¬ 
stituted  the  State  examination.  During  the  first  year 
he  remained  in  the  neighborhood  of  Athens,  drilling 
in  arms,  and  acquiring  a  knowledge  of  military 
tactics.  His  life  was  now  the  hard  life  of  a  soldier. 
He  slept  in  the  open  air,  or  in  the  guard-houses 


90 


ARISTOTLE 


( (fipovpLa )  that  surrounded  the  city,  and  was  liable  to 
be  called  upon  at  any  time  by  the  government  to  give 
aid  in  an  emergency.  He  also  took  part  in  the  public 
festivals.  At  the  end  of  the  year,  all  the  epheboi  of 
one  year’s  standing  passed  an  examination  in  mili¬ 
tary  drill  before  the  assembled  people  (a7re&u£avTo  r<o 
Syjfxto  irep\  ras  resets *),  after  which  they  were  employed 
as  militia  to  man  the  frontier  guard-houses,  and  as 
rural  gendarmerie  (jrepLTroXoL) ,  scouring  the  country  in 
all  directions.  They  now  lived  like  soldiers  in  war¬ 
time,  and  learnt  two  important  things,  (1)  the  topog¬ 
raphy  of  Attica,  its  roads,  passes,  brooks,  springs, 
etc.,  (2)  the  art  of  enforcing  law  and  order.  Their 
life,  indeed,  closely  resembled  that  of  the  Alpine 
corps  ( Alpini )  of  the  Italian  army  at  the  present  day. 
These  spend  the  summer  in  making  themselves  ac¬ 
quainted  with  every  height,  valley,  pass,  stream,  and 
covert  in  the  Italian  Alps,  often  bivouacking  for  days 
together  at  great  heights.  That  during  this  time  the 
epheboi  should  have  taken  any  part  in  the  legislative 
or  judicial  duties  of  citizens,  seems  in  the  highest 
degree  improbable.  At  the  end  of  their  second  year, 
however,  they  passed  a  second  examination,  called  the 
citizenship  or  manhood  examination  (SoKt/xacrta  a’? 
avSpas),  after  which  they  were  full  members  of  the 
State. 


(4)  University  Education. 

The  Greek  university  was  the  State,  and  the  Greek 
State  was  a  university  —  a  Oultur-Staat,  as  the  Ger- 

1  So  says  Aristotle,  who  tells  us  further  that  in  his  time  on  this 
occasion  they  were  presented  with  spear  and  shield  by  the  people 
(see  p.  97). 


IONIAN  OR  ATHENIAN  EDUCATION 


91 


mans  say.  That  the  State  is  a  school  of  virtue,  was 
a  view  generally  entertained  in  the  ancient  world, 
which,  until  it  began  to  decay,  completely  identified 
the  man  with  the  citizen.  The  influence  of  this  view 
upon  the  attitude  of  the  individual  to  the  State,  and 
of  the  State  to  the  individual,  can  hardly  be  over¬ 
estimated.  The  State  claimed,  and  the  individual 
accorded  to  it,  a  disciplinary  right  which  extended  to 
every  sphere  and  action  of  life.  Thus  the  sphere  of 
morality  coincided  exactly  with  the  sphere  of  legality, 
or,  to  put  it  the  other  way,  the  sphere  of  legality 
extended  to  the  whole  sphere  of  morality,  and  this 
was  considered  true,  whatever  form  the  State  or 
government  might  assume  —  monarchy,  aristocracy, 
democracy,  etc. 

To  give  a  full  account  of  the  university  education 
of  old  Athens  would  be  to  write  her  social  and  politi¬ 
cal  history  up  to  the  time  of  the  Persian  Wars.  This 
is,  of  course,  out  of  the  question.  All  I  can  do  is 
to  point  out  those  elements  in  the  State  which  enabled 
it  to  produce  that  splendid  array  of  noble  men,  and 
accomplish  those  great  deeds  and  works,  which  make 
her  brief  career  seem  the  brightest  spot  in  the  world’s 
history. 

The  chief  of  these  elements,  and  the  one  which 
included  all  the  rest,  was  the  Greek  ideal  of  harmony. 
Athens  was  great  as  a  State  and  as  a  school  so  long  as 
she  embodied  that  ideal,  so  long  as  she  distributed 
power  and  honor  in  accordance  with  worth  (aperr/) 
intellectual,  moral,  practical;  in  a  word,  so  long  as 
the  State  was  governed  by  the  best  citizens  (dpurroi), 
and  the  rest  acknowledged  their  right  to  do  so.  Not- 


92 


ARISTOTLE 


withstanding  the  contention  of  Grote  and  others,  it 
is  strictly  true  that  Athens  was  great  because,  and  so 
long  as,  she  was  aristocratic  (in  the  ancient  sense), 
and  perished  when  she  abandoned  her  fundamental 
ideal  by  becoming  democratic.  This  assertion  must 
not  be  construed  as  any  slur  upon  democracy  as  such, 
or  as  denying  that  Athens  in  perishing  paved  the 
way  for  a  higher  ideal  than  her  own.  It  simply 
states  a  fact,  which  may  be  easily  generalized  without 
losing  its  truth :  An  institution  perishes  when  it 
abandons  the  principle  on  which  it  was  founded  and 
built  up.  Unless  we  bear  this  in  mind,  we  shall 
utterly  fail  to  understand  the  lesson  of  Athenian 
history.  If  it  be  maintained  that  some  of  Athens ’ 
noblest  work  was  done  under  the  democracy,  the 
sufficient  answer  is,  that  it  was  nearly  all  done  by 
men  who  retained  the  spirit  of  the  old  aristocracy, 
and  bitterly  opposed  the  democracy.  We  need  name 
only  ^Eschylus,  Sophocles,  Aristophanes,  Plato,  Aris¬ 
totle,  Demosthenes. 


Part  II 


THE  “NEW  EDUCATION”  (b.c.  480-338) 

CHAPTER  I 

INDIVIDUALISM  AND  PHILOSOPHY 

Homer  ought  to  be  driven  from  the  lists  and  whipt,  and  Archilo¬ 
chus  likewise.  — Heraclitus. 

Thou  needs  must  have  knowledge  of  all  things, 
First  of  the  steadfast  core  of  the  Truth  that  forceth  conviction, 
Then  of  the  notions  of  mortals,  where  true  conviction  abides  not. 

—  Parmenides. 

All  things  were  undistinguished  :  then  Intellect  came  and  brought 
them  into  order.  —  Anaxagoras. 

Man  is  the  measure  of  all  things. 

In  regard  to  the  Gods,  I  am  unable  to  know  whether  they  are  or 
are  not.  —  Protagoras. 

Strepsiades.  Don’t  you  see  what  a  good  thing  it  is  to  have 
learning?  There  isn’t  any  Zeus,  Phidippides  ! 

Phidippides.  Who  is  there  then  ? 

Streps.  Vortex  rules,  having  dethroned  Zeus. 

Phid.  Pshaw!  what  nonsense! 

Streps.  You  may  count  it  true,  all  the  same. 

Phid.  Who  says  so  ? 

Streps.  Socrates  the  Melian,  and  Chserephon,  who  knows  the 
footprints  of  fleas.  —  Aristophanes,  Clouds. 

There  is  an  old-fashioned  saw,  current  of  yore  among  mortals, 
that  a  man’s  happiness,  when  full-grown,  gives  birth  and  dies  not 
childless,  and  that  from  Fortune  there  springs  insatiate  woe  for 
all  his  race.  But  I,  dissenting  from  all  others,  am  alone  of  differ- 

93 


94 


ARISTOTLE 


ent  mind.  It  is  the  Irreverent  Deed  that  begets  after  it  more  of  its 
kind.  For  to  righteous  homes  belongs  a  fair-childrened  lot  forever ; 
but  old  Irreverence  is  sure  to  beget  Irreverence,  springing  up  fresh 
among  evil  men,  when  the  numbered  hour  arrives.  And  the  new 
Irreverence  begets  Surfeit  of  Wealth,  and  a  power  beyond  all  battle, 
beyond  all  war,  unholy  Daring,  twin  curses,  black  to  homes,  like 
to  their  parents.  But  Justice  shines  in  smoky  homes,  and  honors 
the  righteous  life,  and,  leaving,  with  averted  eyes,  foundations 
gilded  with  impurity  of  hands,  she  draws  nigh  to  holy  things, 
honoring  not  the  power  of  wealth,  with  its  counterfeit  stamp  of 
praise.  And  her  will  is  done.  —  ^Eschylus. 


From  the  time  they  are  children  to  the  day  of  their  death, 
we  teach  them  and  admonish  them.  As  soon  as  the  child  under¬ 


stands  what  is  said  to  him,  his  nurse  and  his  mother  and  his  peda¬ 
gogue  and  even  his  father  vie  with  each  other  in  trying  to  make  the 


best  of  him  that  can  be  made,  at  every  word  and  deed  instructing 
him  and  warning  him,  “This  is  right,”  “This  is  wrong,”  “This  is 
beautiful,”  “This  is  ugly,”  “This  is  righteous,”  “This  is  sinful,” 
Do  this,  Don  t  do  that.”  And  if  the  child  readily  obeys,  well 
and  good;  if  he  does  not,  then  they  treat  him  like  a  bent  and  twisted 


stick,  straightening  him  out  with  threats  and  blows.  Later  on,  they 
send  him  to  school,  and  then  they  lay  their  injunctions  upon  the 
masters  to  pay  much  more  attention  to  the  good  behavior  of  their 


sons  than  to  their  letters  and  music  (/a0apto-is) ;  and  the  teachers  act 


upon  these  injunctions.  Later  yet,  when  they  have  learnt  to  read, 
and  are  proceeding  to  understand  the  meaning  of  what  is  written, 
just  as  formerly  they  understood  what  was  said  to  them,  they  put 
before  them  on  the  benches  to  read  the  works  of  good  poets,  and 
insist  upon  their  learning  them  by  heart  — works  which  contain 
many  admonitions,  and  many  narratives,  noble  deeds,  and  eulogies 
of  the  worthy  men  of  old  —  their  purpose  being  to  awaken  the  boy’s 
ambition,  so  that  he  may  imitate  these  men  and  strive  to  be  worthy 
likewise.  The  music-teachers  also,  pursuing  the  same  line,  try  to 
inculcate  self-control  (o-w fypovvvri)  and  to  prevent  the  boys  from  fall¬ 
ing  into  mischief.  In  addition  to  this,  when  they  have  learnt  to 
play  on  the  lyre,  their  masters  teach  them  other  poems,  written  by 
great  lyric  poets,  making  them  sing  them  and  play  the  accompani¬ 
ments  to  them,  and  compelling  them  to  work  into  their  souls  the 
rhythms  and  melodies  of  them,  so  that  they  may  grow  in  gentle¬ 
ness,  and,  having  their  natures  timed  and  tuned,  may  be  fitted  to 
speak  and  act.  The  truth  is,  the  whole  life  of  man  needs  timing 


INDIVIDUALISM  AND  PHILOSOPHY 


95 


and  tuning.  Furthermore,  in  addition  to  all  this,  parents  send 
their  sons  to  the  physical  trainer,  in  order  that  their  bodies  may  be 
improved  and  rendered  capable  of  seconding  a  noble  intent,  and 
they  themselves  not  be  forced,  from  physical  deterioration,  to  play 
the  coward  in  war  or  other  (serious)  matters.  And  those  who  can 
best  afford  to  give  this  education,  give  most  of  it,  and  these  are  the 
richest  people.  Their  sons  go  earliest  to  school  and  leave  it  latest. 
And  when  the  boys  leave  school,  the  State  insists  that  they  shall 
learn  the  laws  and  live  according  to  them,  and  not  according  to 
their  own  caprice.  .  .  .  And  if  any  one  transgresses  these  laws,  the 
State  punishes  him.  .  .  .  Seeing  that  so  much  attention  is  devoted 
to  virtue,  both  in  the  family  and  in  the  State,  do  you  wonder, 
Socrates,  and  question  whether  virtue  be  something  that  can  be 
taught  ?  Surely  you  ought  not  to  wonder  at  this,  but  rather  to 
wonder  if  it  could  not  be  taught.  —  Plato,  Protagoras  ( ivords  of 
Protagoras). 

“Isn’t  it  true,  Lysis,”  said  I,  “that  your  parents  love  you  very 
much?”  —  “To  be  sure,”  said  he.  —  “Then  they  would  wish  you 
to  be  as  happy  as  possible?  ”  —  “Of  course,”  said  he.  —  “  And  do 
you  think  a  person  is  happy  who  is  a  slave,  and  is  not  allowed  to  do 
anything  he  desires?”  —  “I  don’t,  indeed,”  said  he. — “Then,  if 
your  father  and  mother  love  you  and  wish  you  to  be  happy,  they 
endeavor  by  every  means  in  their  power  to  make  you  happy.”  — 
“  To  be  sure  they  do,”  said  he.  —  “  Then  they  allow  you  to  do  any¬ 
thing  you  please,  and  never  chide  you,  or  prevent  you  from  doing 
what  you  desire.”  —  “  By  Jove!  they  do,  Socrates  :  they  prevent  me 
from  doing  a  great  many  things.”  —  “  What  do  you  mean,”  said  I; 
“  they  wish  you  to  be  happy,  and  yet  prevent  you  from  doing  what 
you  wish  ?  Let  us  take  an  example  :  If  you  want  to  ride  in  one  of 
your  father’s  chariots,  and  to  hold  the  reins,  when  it  is  competing 
in  a  race,  won’t  they  allow  you,  or  will  they  prevent  you?”  — 
“By  Jove!  no:  they  would  not  allow  me,”  said  he.  “But  why 
should  they?  There  is  a  charioteer,  who  is  hired  by  my  father.”  — 
“  What  do  you  mean?  They  allow  a  hired  man,  rather  than  you,  to 
do  what  he  likes  with  the  horses,  and  pay  him  a  salary  besides?  ”  — 
“  And  why  not  ?  ”  said  he. —  “  Well  then,  I  suppose  they  allow  you 
to  manage  the  mule-team,  and  if  you  wanted  to  take  the  whip  and 
whip  it,  they  would  permit  you.”  —  “  How  could  they?  ”  said  he. — 
“  What  ?  ”  said  I :  “  is  nobody  allowed  to  whip  it?  ”  —  “  Of  course,” 
he  said  ;  “  the  muleteer.”  —  “A  slave  or  a  free  man  ?  ”  —  “A  slave,” 
said  he.  —  “And  so  it  seems  they  think  more  of  a  slave  than  of 


96 


ARISTOTLE 


their  son,  and  entrust  their  property  to  him  rather  than  to  you,  and 
allow  him  to  do  what  he  pleases,  whereas  they  prevent  you.  But, 
farther,  tell  me  this.  Do  they  allow  you  to  manage  yourself,  or  do 
they  not  even  trust  you  to  that  extent ?  ”  —  “  How  trust  me?  ”  said 
he.  —  “  Then  does  some  one  manage  you?  ”  —  “  Yes,  my  pedagogue 
here,”  said  he.  —  “  But  he  is  surely  not  a  slave  ?  ”  —  “  Of  course  he 
is,  our  slave,”  said  he.— “Is  it  not  strange,”  said  I,  “that  a  free¬ 
man  should  be  governed  by  a  slave?  But,  to  continue,  what  is 
this  pedagogue  doing  when  he  governs  you?  ”  — “Taking  me  to  a 
teacher,  or  something  of  the  kind,”  he  said.  —  “  And  these  teachers, 

it  cannot  be  that  they  too  govern  you?”  —  “To  any  extent.” _ 

“  So  then  your  father  likes  to  set  over  you  a  host  of  masters  and 
managers ;  hut,  of  course,  when  you  go  home  to  your  mother,  she 
lets  you  do  what  you  like,  in  order  to  make  you  happy,  either  with 
the  threads  or  the  loom,  when  she  is  weaving  —  does  she  not?  She 
surely  doesn’t  in  the  least  prevent  you  from  handling  the  batten,  or 
the  comb,  or  any  of  the  instruments  used  in  spinning.”  —  And  he, 
laughing,  said  :  “  By  Jove,  Socrates;  she  not  only  prevents  me,  but 
I  should  be  beaten  if  I  touched  them.”  —  “  By  Hercules,”  said  I, 

isn’t  it  true  that  you  have  done  some  wrong  to  your  father  and 
mother?  “By  Jove,  not  I,”  he  said.  —  “But  for  what  reason, 
then,  do  they  so  anxiously  prevent  you  from  being  happy,  and 
doing  what  you  please,  and  maintain  you  the  whole  day  in  servi¬ 
tude  to  some  one  or  another,  and  without  power  to  do  almost  any¬ 
thing  you  like.  It  seems,  indeed,  that  you  derive  no  advantage 
fiom  all  this  wealth,  but  anybody  manages  it  rather  than  you,  nor 
f 10111  y0111  body,  nobly  born  as  it  is,  but  some  one  else  shepherds  it 
and  takes  care  of  it.  But  you  govern  nothing,  Lysis,  and  do  noth¬ 
ing  that  you  desire.”  —  “ The  reason,  Socrates,”  he  said,  “is,  that 
I  am  not  of  age.”  —  Plato,  Lysis. 

The  present  state  of  the  constitution  is  as  follows :  Citizenship  is 
a  right  of  children  whose  parents  are  both  of  them  citizens.  Regis- 
tration  as  member  of  a  deme  or  township  takes  place  when  eigh¬ 
teen  years  of  age  are  completed.  Before  it  takes  place  the  towns¬ 
men  of  the  deme  find  a  verdict  on  oath,  firstly,  whether  they 
believe  the  youth  to  be  as  old  as  the  law  requires,  and  if  the  ver¬ 
dict  is  in  the  negative  he  returns  to  the  ranks  of  the  boys. 
Secondly,  the  jury  find  whether  he  is  freeborn  and  legitimate.  If 
the  veidict  is  against  him  he  appeals  to  the  Helisea,  and  the  muni¬ 
cipality  delegate  five  of  their  body  to  accuse  him  of  illegitimacy. 

If  lie  is  found  by  the  jurors  to  have  been  illegally  proposed  for  the 


INDIVIDUALISM  AND  PHILOSOPHY 


97 


register,  the  State  sells  him  for  a  slave;  if  the  judgment  is  given  in 
his  favor,  he  must  be  registered  as  one  of  the  municipality.  Those 
on  the  register  are  afterwards  examined  by  the  senate,  and  if  any¬ 
one  is  found  not  to  be  eighteen  years  old,  a  fine  is  imposed  on  the 
municipality  by  which  he  was  registered.  After  approbation,  they 
are  called  epheboi,  or  cadets,  and  the  parents  of  all  who  belong  to 
a  single  tribe  hold  a  meeting  and,  after  being  sworn,  choose  three 
men  of  the  tribe  above  forty  years  of  age,  whom  they  believe  to 
be  of  stainless  character  and  fittest  for  the  superintendence  of 
youth,  and  out  of  these  the  commons  in  ecclesia  select  one  superin¬ 
tendent  for  all  of  each  tribe,  and  a  governor  of  the  whole  body  of 
youths  from  the  general  body  of  the  Athenians.  These  take  them 
in  charge,  and  after  visiting  with  them  all  the  temples,  march 
down  to  Pirseus,  where  they  garrison  the  north  and  south  harbors, 
Munychia  and  Acte.  The  commons  also  elect  two  gymnastic 
trainers  for  them,  and  persons  who  teach  them  to  fight  in  heavy 
armor,  to  draw  the  bow,  to  throw  the  javelin,  and  to  handle  artil¬ 
lery.  Each  of  the  ten  commanders  receives  as  pay  a  drachma 
[about  20  cts.j  per  diem,  and  each  of  the  cadets  four  obols  [about 
13  cts.].  Each  commander  draws  the  pay  of  the  cadets  of  his  own 
tribe,  buys  with  it  the  necessaries  of  life  for  the  whole  band  (for 
they  mess  together  by  tribes) ,  and  purveys  for  all  their  wants.  The 
first  year  is  spent  in  military  exercises.  The  second  year  the  com¬ 
mons  meet  in  the  theatre  and  the  cadets,  after  displaying  before 
them  their  mastery  in  warlike  evolutions,  are  each  presented  with 
a  shield  and  spear,  and  become  mounted  patrols  of  the  frontier  and 
garrison  the  fortresses.  They  perform  this  service  for  two  yeais, 
wearing  the  equestrian  cloak  and  enjoying  immunity  from  civic 
functions.  During  this  period,  to  guard  their  military  duties  from 
interruption,  they  can  be  parties  to  no  action  either  as  defendant  or 
plaintiff,  except  in  suits  respecting  inheritance,  or  heiresses,  or  suc¬ 
cessions  to  hereditary  priesthoods.  When  the  three  years  are  com¬ 
pleted  they  fall  into  the  ordinary  body  of  citizens.  — Aristotle, 
Constitution  of  Athens  ( Poste’s  Version,  with  slight  alterations). 


That  perfect  harmony  between  power  and  worth, 
at  which  the  Athenian  State  aimed,  was  something 
not  easily  attained  or  preserved.  As  far  hack  as 
its  recorded  history  reaches,  we  find  a  struggle  for 


98 


ARISTOTLE 


power  going  on  between  a  party  which  possessed 
moi  e  power  than  its  worth  justified,  and  a  party  which 
possessed  less;  that  is,  between  a  party  which,  having 
once  been  worthy,  strove  to  hold  power  in  virtue  of 
its  past  history,  and  one  that  claimed  power  in  virtue 
of  the  worth  into  which  it  was  growing:  in  a  word,  a 
struggle  between  declining  aristocracy  and  growing 
demociacy.  To  the  party  in  power,  of  course,  this 
seemed  a  rebellion  against  lawful  authority  and  privi¬ 
lege,  and  it  did  its  best  to  suppress  it.  Hence  came 
the  rigorous  legislation  of  Draco;  later  the  more  con- 
ciliatory,  less  out-spoken,  but  equally  aristocratic 
legislation  of  Solon;  then  the  tyranny  of  Pisistratus, 
lasting  as  long  as  he  could  hold  the  balance  of  power 
between  the  contending  parties;  then  the  constitution 
of  Clisthenes,  with  the  breaking  up  of  the  old  Athe¬ 
nian  aristocratic  system,  the  remodelling  of  the  tribes, 
the  degradation  of  the  Areopagus,  and  the  definite 
triumph  of  democracy.  To  complete  the  movement 
and,  as  it  were,  to  consecrate  it,  came  the  Persian 
Wais,  which  mark  the  turning-point,  the  peripeteia , 
in  Athenian  history  and  education.  Whatever  efforts 
aristocracy  makes  to  maintain  itself  after  this,  are 
made  in  the  name  of,  and  under  cover  of  a  zeal  for. 
democracy. 

The  aristocratic  Athenian  State  was  based  upon 
land-ownership,  slavery,  and  the  entire  freedom  of 
the  land-owning  class  from  all  but  family  and  State 
duties,  from  all  need  of  engaging  in  productive  indus- 
tiy.  So  long  as  the  chief  wealth  of  the  State  consisted 
in  land  and  its  produce,  so  long  the  population  was 
divided  into  two  classes,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  and 


INDIVIDUALISM  AND  PHILOSOPHY 


99 


so  long  the  former  had  little  difficulty  in  keeping  all 
power  in  its  own  hands.  But  no  sooner  did  the  growth 
of  commerce  throw  wealth  into  the  hands  of  a  class 
that  owned  no  land,  and  was  not  above  engaging  in 
industry,  than  this  class  began  to  claim  a  share  in 
political  power.  There  were  now  two  wealthy  classes, 
standing  opposed  to  each  other,  a  proud,  conservative 
one,  with  “old  wealth  and  worth,”  and  a  vain,  radical 
one,  with  new  wealth  and  wants,  both  bidding  for  the 
favor  of  the  class  that  had  little  wealth,  little  worth, 
and  many  wants,  and  thus  making  it  feel  its  impor¬ 
tance.  Such  is  the  origin  of  Athenian  democracy.  It 
is  the  child  of  trade  and  productive  industry.  It  owed 
its  final  consecration  to  the  Persian  Wars,  and  espe¬ 
cially  to  the  battle  of  Salamis,  in  which  Athens  was 
saved  by  her  fleet,  manned  chiefly  by  marines  (eVi/?drat) 
from  the  lower  classes,  the  upper  classes,  as  we  have 
seen,  being  trained  only  for  land-service.  Thus  the 
battle  of  Salamis  was  not  only  a  victory  of  Greece  over 
Persia,  but  of  foreign  trade  over  home  agriculture,  of 
democracy  over  aristocracy. 

The  fact  that  the  Athenian  democracy  owed  its 
origin  to  trade  determined,  in  great  measure,  its  his¬ 
tory  and  tendencies.  One  of  its  many  results  was 
that  it  opened  Athens  to  the  influx  of  foreign  men, 
foreign  ideas,  and  foreign  habits,  not  to  speak  of  for¬ 
eign  gods,  all  of  which  tended  to  break  up  the  old 
self-contained,  carefully  organized  life  of  the  people. 
In  no  department  were  their  effects  sooner  or  more 
clearly  felt  than  in  that  of  education.  From  about 
the  date  of  the  battle  of  Salamis,  when  the  youthful 
Ionian,  Anaxagoras,  came  to  Athens,  a  succession  of 


100 


ARISTOTLE 


men  of  “advanced  ”  ideas  in  art  and  science  sought  a 
field  of  action  within  her  borders.  Such  a  field,  in¬ 
deed,  seemed  purposely  to  have  been  left  open  for 
them  by  the  State,  which  had  provided  no  means  of 
intellectual  or  moral  education  for  its  young  citizens, 
after  they  passed  under  its  care  (see  p.  87).  Nothing 
was  easier  or  more  profitable  than  for  these  wise  for¬ 
eigners  to  constitute  themselves  public  teachers,  and 
fill  the  place  which  the  State  had  left  vacant.  The 
State  might  occasionally  object,  and  seek  to  punish 
one  or  another  of  them  for  corrupting  of  the  youth  by 
the  promulgation  of  impious  or  otherwise  dangerous 
ideas,  as  it  did  in  the  case  of  Anaxagoras;  but  their 
activity  was  too  much  in  harmony  with  a  tendency  of 
the  time,  a  radical  and  individualistic  tendency 
inseparable  from  democracy,  —  to  be  dispensed  with 
altogether.  Hence  it  was  that,  within  a  few  years 
after  the  battle  of  Salamis,  there  flourished  in  Athens 
a  class  of  men  unknown  before  within  her  boundaries, 
a  class  of  private  professors,  or  “sophists,”  as  they 
called  themselves,  who  undertook  to  teach  theoretically 
what  the  State  had  assumed  could  be  taught  only  prac¬ 
tically  and  by  herself,  viz.,  virtue  and  wisdom.  Their 
ideas  were  novel,  striking,  and  radical,  hence  conge¬ 
nial  to  a  newly  emancipated  populace,  vain  of  its  recent 
achievements,  and  contemptuous  of  all  that  savored  of 
the  narrow,  pious  puritanism  of  the  old  time;  their 
premises  were  magnificent,  and  their  fees  high  enough 
to  impose  upon  a  class  that  always  measures  the 
value  of  a  thing  by  what  it  is  asked  to  pay  for  it; 
their  method  of  teaching  was  such  as  to  flatter  the 
vanity,  and  secure  the  favor,  of  both  pupils  and 


INDIVIDUALISM  AND  PHILOSOPHY 


101 


parents.  No  wonder  that  their  success  was  immediate 
and  their  influence  enormous. 

From  the  days  of  Socrates  to  our  own,  ‘sophist’  has 
been  a  term  of  reproach,  and  not  altogether  unjustly 
so.  Hegel,  Grote,  and  Zeller  have,  indeed,  shown 
that  the  sophists  did  not  deserve  all  the  obloquy 
which  has  attached  itself  to  their  name,  inasmuch  as 
they  were  neither  much  better  nor  much  worse  than 
any  class  of  men  who  set  up  to  teach  new  doctrines 
for  money,  and,  as  wise  economists,  suit  supply  to 
demand;  nevertheless,  it  may  be  fairly  enough  said 
that  they  largely  contributed  to  demoralize  Athens,  by 
encouraging  irreverence  for  the  very  conceptions  upon 
which  her  polity  was  built,  and  by  pandering  to  some 
of  the  most  selfish  and  individualistic  tendencies  of 
democracy.  If  it  be  said  that  they  have  their  place 
in  the  history  of  human  evolution,  as  the  heralds  of 
that  higher  view  of  life  which  allows  the  individual 
a  sphere  of  activities  and  interests  outside  of  that 
occupied  by  the  State,  this  may  at  once  and  without 
difficulty  be  admitted,  without  our  being  thereby 
forced  to  regard  them  as  noble  men.  The  truth  is, 
they  represented,  in  practice  and  in  theory,  the  spirit 
of  individualism,  which  was  then  everywhere  asserting 
itself  against  the  spirit  of  nationalism  or  polity,  and 
which  perhaps  had  to  assert  itself  in  an  exaggerated 
and  destructive  way,  before  the  rightful  claims  of  the 
two  could  be  manifested  and  harmonized.  It  is  the 
incorporation  of  this  spirit  of  individualism  into  edu¬ 
cation  that  constitutes  the  “New  Education.” 

This  spirit,  as  manifested  in  the  sophists  and  their 
teaching,  directed  itself  against  the  old  political  spirit 


102 


ARISTOTLE 


iii  all  the  departments  of  life — in  religion,  in  politics, 
in  education.  It  discredited  the  old  popular  gods, 
upon  loyalty  to  whom  the  existence  of  the  State  had 
been  supposed  to  depend,  substituting  for  them  some 
crude  fancy  like  Vortex,  or  some  bald  abstraction  like 
Intellect.  It  encouraged  the  individual  to  seek  his 
end  in  his  own  pleasure,  and  to  regard  the  State  as 
but  a  means  to  that  end.  It  championed  an  educa¬ 
tion  in  which  these  ideas  occupied  a  prominent  place. 
What  the  sophists  actually  taught  the  ambitious  young 
men  who  sought  their  instruction,  was  self-assertion, 
unscrupulousness,  and  a  showy  rhetoric,  in  whose 
triumphal  procession  facts,  fancies,  and  falsehoods 
marched  together  in  brilliant  array.  It  is  but  fair  to 
them  to  say  that,  in  their  endeavor  to  instruct  young 
men  in  the  art  of  specious  oratory,  they  laid  the  foun¬ 
dations  of  the  art  of  rhetoric  and  the  science  of  gram¬ 
mar.  So  much,  at  least,  the  world  owes  to  them. 

Since  it  was  to  the  young  men,  who,  freed  from  the 
discipline  of  home,  pedagogue,  school,  and  palaestra, 
could  be  met  with  anywhere,  in  the  street,  the  agora, 
the  gymnasium,  that  the  sophists  directed  their  chief 
attention,  it  was  of  course  these  who  first  showed  the 
effects  of  their  teaching.  But  their  influence,  falling 
in,  as  it  did,  with  the  pronounced  radical  tendencies 
of  the  time,  soon  made  itself  felt  in  all  grades  of  edu¬ 
cation,  from  the  family  to  the  university,  in  the  form 
of  an  irreverent,  flippant,  conceited  rationalism,  before 
whose  self-erected  and  self-corrupted  tribunal  every 
institution  in  heaven  and  earth  was  to  be  tried.  In 
the  schools  this  influence  showed  itself  in  various 
ways :  (1)  in  an  increased  attention  to  literature,  and 


INDIVIDUALISM  AND  PHILOSOPHY 


103 


especially  to  the  formal  side  of  it,  (2)  in  the  tendency 
to  substitute  for  the  works  of  the  old  epic  and  lyric 
poets  the  works  of  more  recent  writers  tinged  with 
the  new  spirit,  (3)  in  the  introduction  of  new  and 
complicated  instruments  and  kinds  of  music,  (4)  in 
an  increasing  departure  from  the  severe  physical  and 
moral  discipline  of  the  old  days.  We  now,  for  the 
hrst  time,  hear  of  a  teacher  of  literature,  distinct  from 
the  music  master,  of  teachers  who  possessed  no  copy 
of  Homer  (Alcibiades  is  said  to  have  chastised  such  a 
one),  of  flutes,  citharas,  and  the  like  in  use  in  schools, 
of  wildness  and  lewdness  among  boys  of  tender  age. 
In  the  palaestra  the  new  spirit  showed  itself  in  a  ten¬ 
dency  to  substitute  showy  and  unsystematic  exercises 
for  the  vigorous  and  graded  exercises  of  the  older 
time,  to  sacrifice  education  to  execution. 

But,  as  already  remarked,  the  new  spirit  showed 
itself  most  clearly  and  hurtfully  in  the  higher  educa¬ 
tion.  The  young  men,  instead  of  spending  their  time 
in  vigorous  physical  exercise  in  the  gymnasia  and  open 
country,  began  now  to  hang  about  the  streets  and 
public  places,  listening  to  sophistic  discussions,  and 
to  attend  the  schools  of  the  sophists,  exercising  their 
tongues  more  than  any  other  part  of  their  bodies.  The 
effect  of  this  soon  showed  itself  in  a  decline  of  physi¬ 
cal  power,  of  endurance,  courage,  and  manliness,  and 
in  a  strong  tendency  to  luxury  and  other  physical  sins. 
They  now  began  to  imagine  for  themselves  a  private 
life,  very  far  from  coincident  with  that  demanded 
of  a  citizen,  and  to  look  upon  the  old  citizen-life, 
and  its  ideals,  sanctions,  and  duties,  with  contempt  or 
pity,  as  something  which  they  had  learnt  to  rise  above. 


104 


ARISTOTLE 


The  glory  and  well-being  of  their  country  were  no 
longer  their  chief  object  of  ambition.  The  dry  rot  of 
individualism,  which  always  seems  to  those  affected 
by  it  an  evidence  of  health  and  manly  vigor,  was  cor¬ 
rupting  their  moral  nature,  and  preparing  the  way 
for  the  destruction  of  the  State.  For  it  was  but  too 
natural  that  these  young  men,  when  they  came  to  be 
members  of  the  State,  should  neglect  its  lessons  and 
claims,  and,  following  the  new  teachings,  live  to  them¬ 
selves.  Thus,  just  as  the  character  of  the  “  Old  Edu¬ 
cation  ”  of  Athens  showed  itself  in  the  behavior  of  her 
sons  in  the  Persian  Wars,  so  that  of  her  “New  Educa¬ 
tion  ”  showed  itself  fifty  years  later  in  the  Peloponne¬ 
sian  War,  that  long  and  disastrous  struggle  which 
wrecked  Athens  and  Greece. 

Yet  Athens  and  her  education  were  not  allowed  to 
go  to  ruin  without  a  struggle.  The  aristocratic  party 
long  stuck  to  the  old  principles  and  tried  to  give  them 
effect;  but,  failing  to  understand  the  new  circum¬ 
stances  and  to  take  account  of  them,  it  erred  in  the 
application  of  them,  by  seeking  simply  to  restore  the 
old  conditions.  Individuals  also  exerted  their  best 
efforts  for  the  same  end.  ^Eschylus,  who  had  fought 
at  Marathon,  and  who,  more  than  any  other  Greek,  was 
endowed  with  the  spirit  of  religion,  interpreted  the 
old  mythology  in  an  ethical  sense,  and  in  this  form 
worked  it  into  a  series  of  dramas,  whereby  the  history 
and  institutions  of  the  Greek  people  were  shown  to  be 
due  to  a  guiding  Providence  of  inexorable  justice, 
rewarding  each  man  according  to  his  works,  abhorring 
proud  homes  “gilded  with  impurity  of  hands,”  and 
dwelling  with  the  pure  and  righteous,  though  housed 


INDIVIDUALISM  AND  PHILOSOPHY 


105 


in  the  meanest  cot.  iEschylus  thus  became,  not  only 
the  father  of  Greek  tragedy,  but  also  the  sublimest 
moral  teacher  Greece  ever  possessed.  For  moral  gran¬ 
deur  there  is  but  one  work  in  all  literature  that  can 
stand  by  the  side  of  iEschylus’  Oresteia ,  and  that  is 
the  Divine  Comedy.  Yet  iEschylus  was  driven  from 
Athens  on  a  charge  of  impiety,  and  died  in  exile. 

But  it  was  not  the  tragic  drama  alone  that  was 
inspired  and  made  a  preacher  of  righteousness :  in  the 
hands  of  Aristophanes,  the  comic  drama  exerted  all  its 
power  for  the  same  end.  For  over  thirty  years  this 
inimitable  humorist  used  the  public  theatre  to  lash 
the  follies,  and  hold  up  to  contempt  the  wretched 
leaders,  of  the  Athenian  populace,  pointing  out  to  his 
countrymen  the  abyss  of  destruction  that  was  yawn¬ 
ing  before  them.  The  world  has  never  seen  such 
earnest  comedy,  not  even  in  the  works  of  Moliere  or 
Beaumarchais.  Yet  it  was  all  in  vain.  Long  before 
his  death,  Aristophanes  was  forbidden  to  hold  up  to 
public  scorn  the  degradation  of  his  people. 

Among  the  individual  citizens  who  labored  with  all 
their  might  to  bring  back  Athens  to  her  old  worth 
were  two  of  very  different  character,  endowments, 
and  position,  the  one  laboring  in  the  world  of  action, 
the  other  in  the  world  of  thought.  The  first  was 
Pericles,  who,  seeing  that  democracy  was  the  order 
of  the  day,  accepted  it,  and,  by  his  personal  character 
and  position,  strove  to  guide  it  to  worthy  ends.  In 
order  to  encourage  gymnastic  exercises,  particularly 
among  the  sons  of  the  newer  families,  he  built  the 
Lyceum,  in  a  grove  sacred  to  Apollo,  between  Cynos- 
arges  and  the  city  walls,  as  a  gymnasium  for  them. 


100 


ARISTOTLE 


With  a  view  to  encouraging  among  them  the  study  of 
music,  he  built  an  odeon,  or  music-hall,  under  the 
southeast  end  of  the  Acropolis.  Both  were  mag¬ 
nificent  structures.  What  he  did  towards  the  com¬ 
pletion  of  the  great  theatre  for  the  encouragement  of 
dancing,  we  do  not  know ;  that  this  entered  into  his 
plan,  there  can  hardly  be  any  doubt.  But  Pericles 
was  too  wise  a  man  to  suppose  that  he  could  induce 
his  pleasure-seeking  countrymen  to  subject  themselves 
to  the  old  discipline,  without  offering  them  an  object 
calculated  to  rouse  their  ambition  and  call  forth  their 
energy.  This  object  was  nothing  less  than  a  united 
Greece,  with  Athens  as  its  capital.  How  hard  he 
tried  to  make  this  object  familiar  to  them,  and  to 
render  Athens  worthy  of  the  place  he  desired  her  to 
occupy,  is  pathetically  attested  to  this  day  by  the 
Propylsea  and  the  Parthenon.  On  the  frieze  of  the 
latter  is  represented  the  solemn  sacrifice  that  was  to 
cement  the  union  of  the  Hellenic  people,  and  place 
it  at  the  head  of  civilization.  When  degenerate 
Greece  resisted  all  his  efforts  to  make  her  become  one 
peaceably,  he  tried  to  make  her  do  so  by  force,  and 
the  Peloponnesian  War,  started  on  a  mere  frivolous 
pretext,  was  the  result.  He  did  not  live  long  enough 
to  learn  the  outcome  of  this  desperate  attempt  to  wake 
his  countrymen  to  new  moral  and  political  life,  and 
it  was  well.  If  he  had,  he  might  have  been  forced  to 
recognize  that  he  had  been  attempting  an  impossible 
task,  — trying  to  erect  a  strong  structure  with  rotten 
timber,  to  make  a  noble  State  out  of  ignoble,  selfish 
men.  Unfortunately,  the  example  of  his  own  private 
life,  in  which  he  openly  defied  one  of  the  laws  of  the 


INDIVIDUALISM  AND  PHILOSOPHY 


107 


State,  and  tried  to  make  concubinage  ( eTa/p^cris )  re¬ 
spectable,  more  than  undid  all  the  good  he  sought  to 
accomplish.  The  truth  is,  Pericles  was  himself  too 
deeply  imbued  with  the  three  vices  of  his  time  — 
rationalism,  self-indulgence,  and  love  of  show  —  to  be 
able  to  see  any  true  remedy  for  the  evils  that  sprang 
from  them.  What  was  needed  was  not  letters,  music, 
gymnastics,  dancing,  or  dream  of  empire,  but  some¬ 
thing  entirely  different  —  a  new  moral  inspiration  and 
ideal. 

This,  the  second  of  the  men  to  whom  reference  has 
been  made,  Socrates,  sought  to  supply.  In  the  midst 
of  self-indulgence,  he  lived  a  life  of  poverty  and 
privation;  in  the  midst  of  splendor  and  the  worship 
of  outward  beauty,  he  pursued  simplicity  and  took 
pleasure  in  his  ugliness ;  in  the  midst  of  self-assertive 
rationalism  and  all-knowing  sophistry,  he  professed 
ignorance  and  submission  to  the  gods.  The  problem 
of  how  to  restore  the  moral  life  of  Athens  and  Greece 
presented  itself  to  Socrates  in  this  form :  The  old  ethi¬ 
cal  social  sanctions,  divine  and  human,  having,  under 
the  influence  of  rationalism  and  individualism,  lost  their 
power,  where  and  how  shall  we  find  other  sanctions  to 
take  their  place?  To  answer  this  one  question  was 
the  aim  of  Socrates’  whole  life.  He  was  not  long  in 
seeing  that  any  true  answer  must  rest  upon  a  compre¬ 
hension  of  man’s  entire  nature  and  relations,  and  that 
the  sophists  were  able  to  impose  upon  his  countrymen 
only  because  no  such  comprehension  was  theirs.  He 
saw  that  the  old  moral  life,  based  upon  naive  tradition 
and  prescription,  sanctioned  by  gods  of  the  imagina¬ 
tion,  would  have  to  give  place  to  a  moral  life  resting 


108 


ARISTOTLE 


upon  self-understanding  and  reflection.  He  accord¬ 
ingly  adopted  as  his  motto  the  command  of  the 
Delphic  oracle,  Know  Thyself  (yvwOi  aeavrov),  and  set  to 
work  with  all  his  might  to  obey  it. 

He  now,  therefore,  went  to  meet  the  sophists  on 
their  own  ground  and  with  their  own  methods,  and 
he  did  this  so  well  as  to  be  considered  by  many,  Aris¬ 
tophanes  among  them,  as  the  best  possible  representa¬ 
tive  of  the  class.  What  is  true  is,  that  he  was  the 
first  Athenian  who  undertook  to  do  what  the  sophists 
had  for  some  time  considered  their  special  function, 
—  to  impart  a  “  higher  education  ”  to  the  youth  and 
men  of  Athens.  He  went  about  the  streets,  shops, 
walks,  schools,  and  gymnasia  of  the  city,  drawing  all 
sorts  of  persons  into  conversation,  and  trying  to 
elicit  truth  for  himself  and  them  (for  he  pretended 
to  know  nothing).  He  was  never  so  pleased  as  when 
he  met  a  real  sophist,  who  professed  to  have  knowl¬ 
edge,  and  never  so  much  in  his  element  as  when,  in 
the  presence  of  a  knot  of  young  men,  he  could,  by  his 
ironical,  subtle  questions,  force  said  sophist  to  admit 
that  he  too  knew  nothing.  The  fact  was,  Socrates, 
studying  Heraclitus,  had  become  convinced  that  the 
reason  why  men  fell  into  error  was  because  they  did 
not  know  themselves,  or  their  own  thoughts,  because 
what  they  called  thoughts  were  mere  opinions,  mere 
fragments  of  thoughts.  He  concluded  that,  if  men 
were  ever  to  be  redeemed  from  error,  intellectual  and 
moral,  they  must  be  made  to  think  whole  thoughts. 
Accordingly,  he  took  the  ordinary  opinions  of  men 
and,  by  a  series  of  well-directed  questions,  tried  to 
bring  out  their  implications,  that  is,  the  wholes  of 


INDIVIDUALISM  AND  PHILOSOPHY 


109 


which,  they  were  parts.  Such  is  the  Socratic  or  dia¬ 
lectic  (=  conversational)  method.  It  does  not  pretend 
to  impart  any  new  knowledge,  but  merely,  as  Socrates 
said,  to  deliver  the  mind  of  the  thoughts  with  which 
it  is  pregnant.  And  Socrates  not  only  held  that  sav¬ 
ing  truth  consisted  of  whole  thoughts;  he  held  also 
that  all  such  thoughts  were  universally  and  neces¬ 
sarily  true ;  that,  while  there  might  be  many  opinions 
about  a  thing,  there  could  be  but  one  truth,  the  same 
for  all  men,  and  therefore  independent  of  any  man. 
This  was  the  exact  opposite  of  what  Protagoras  the 
sophist  had  taught,  the  opposite  of  the  gospel  of 
individualism  (see  p.  93).  Man  is  so  far  from  being 
the  measure  of  all  things,  that  there  is  in  all  things  a 
measure  to  which  he  must  conform,  if  he  is  not  to 
sink  into  error.  This  measure,  this  system  of  whole 
truths,  implying  an  eternal  mind  to  which  it  is  pres¬ 
ent,  and  by  which  it  is  manifested  in  the  world,  is 
just  what  man  arrives  at,  if  he  will  but  think  out  his 
thoughts  in  their  completeness.  In  doing  so,  he  at 
once  learns  the  laws  by  which  the  universe  is  governed 
and  finds  a  guide  and  sanction  for  his  own  conduct  — 
a  sanction  no  longer  external  and  imposed  by  the 
State,  but  internal  and  imposed  by  the  mind.  A 
system  like  this  involved  a  complete  reversal  of  the 
old  view  of  the  relation  between  man  and  the  State, 
and  at  the  same  time  took  the  feet  from  under  indi¬ 
vidualism.  “  It  is  true,”  said  Socrates  in  effect,  “that 
the  individual,  and  not  the  State,  is  the  source  of  all 
authority,  the  measure  of  all  things ;  but  he  is  so,  not 
as  individual,  but  as  endowed  with  the  universal  rea¬ 
son  by  which  the  world,  including  the  State,  is  gov- 


110 


ARISTOTLE 


emed.  This  is  the  sum  and  substance  of  Socrates’ 
teaching,  this  is  what  he  believed  to  be  true  self- 
knowledge.  This  is  the  truth  whose  application  to 
life  begins  a  new  epoch  in  human  history,  and  sepa- 
lates  the  modern  from  the  ancient  world;  this  is  the 
tiuth  that,  reiterated  and  vivified  by  Christianity, 
forms  the  very  life  of  our  life  to-day. 

In  adopting  this  view,  Socrates  necessarily  formed 
“ a  party  by  himself,”  a  party  which  could  hope  for 
no  sympathy  from  either  of  the  other  two  into  which 
his  countrymen  were  divided.  The  party  of  tradition 
charged  him  with  denying  the  gods  of  his  country  and 
corrupting  her  youth;  the  radical  party  hated  him 
because  he  convicted  its  champions  of  vanity,  super¬ 
ficiality,  and  ignorance.  Between  them,  they  com¬ 
passed  his  death,  and  Athens  learnt,  only  when  it  was 
too  late,  that  she  had  slain  her  prophet.  But  Socrates, 
though  slain,  was  not  dead.  His  spirit  lived  on,  and 
the  work  which  he  had  begun  grew  and  prospered. 
Yet  it  could  not  save  Athens,  except  upon  a  condition 
which  she  neither  would  nor  could  accept,  that  of 
remodelling  her  polity  and  the  life  of  her  citizens  in 
accordance  with  divine  truth  and  justice.  Indeed, 
though  he  discovered  a  great  truth,  Socrates  did  not 
piesent  it  in  a  form  in  which  it  could  be  accepted 
under  the  given  conditions.  He  himself  even  did  not 
by  any  means  see  all  the  stupendous  implications  of 
his  own  principle,  which,  in  fact,  was  nothing  less  than 
the  ground  of  all  true  ethics,  all  liberty,  and  all  sci¬ 
ence.  It  is  doubtful  whether  any  one  sees  them  now, 
and  certain  that  they  have  been  nowhere  realized. 
Still  his  truth  and  his  life  were  not  without  their  im- 


INDIVIDUALISM  AND  PHILOSOPHY 


111 


mediate  effect  upon  Athens  and  Athenian  education. 
Men,  working  in  his  spirit,  and  inspired  with  his  truth, 
more  or  less  clearly  understood,  almost  immediately 
replaced  the  sophists  in  Athens,  and  drew  the  atten¬ 
tion  of  her  citizens,  old  and  young,  to  the  serious 
search  for  truth.  In  fact,  from  this  time  on,  the 
intellectual  tendency  began  to  prevail  over  the  gym¬ 
nastic  and  musical,  and  this  continued  until,  finally, 
it  absorbed  the  whole  life  of  the  people,  and  Athens, 
from  being  a  university-State,  became  a  State-univer¬ 
sity.  Such  it  was  in  the  days  of  Cicero,  Paul, 
Plutarch,  Lucian,  and  Proclus.  That  this  one-sided 
tendency  was  fatal  to  the  political  life  of  Athens,  and 
therefore,  in  some  degree,  to  its  moral  life,  is  clear 
enough;  and,  though  we  cannot  hold  Socrates  person¬ 
ally  responsible  for  this  result,  we  must  still  admit 
that  it  was  one  which  flowed  from  his  system  of 
thought.  Personally,  indeed,  Socrates  was  a  moral 
hero,  and  “five  righteous”  men  like  him,  had  they 
appeared,  would  have  gone  far  to  save  Athens;  but 
this  very  heroism,  this  inborn  enthusiasm  for  right¬ 
eousness,  blinded  him  so  far  as  to  make  him  believe 
that  men  had  only  to  know  the  right  in  order  to  be 
ready  to  follow  it.  Hence  that  exaggerated  impor¬ 
tance  attached  to  right  knowing,  and  that  compara¬ 
tive  neglect  of  right  feeling  and  right  doing,  which 
in  the  sequel  proved  so  paralyzing.  Hence  the  fail¬ 
ure  of  Socrates’  teaching  to  stem  the  tide  of  cor¬ 
ruption  in  Athens,  and  restore  her  people  to  heroism 
and  worth. 

Socrates  left  behind  him  many  disciples,  some  of 
whom  distinguished  themselves  in  practical  ways, 


112 


ARISTOTLE 


others  as  founders  of  philosophic  schools,  emphasizing 
different  sides  of  his  teaching.  He  was  but  a  few 
years  in  his  grave  when  two  of  these  were  teaching 
regularly  in  the  two  old  gymnasia  of  Athens.  Plato, 
a  full-blooded  Athenian,  was  teaching  in  the  Academy 
the  intellectual  and  moral  theories  of  his  master, 
while  Antisthenes,  a  half-breed  (his  mother  being  a 
Thracian),  was  inculcating  the  lesson  of  his  heroic 
life  in  Cynosarges.  Their  followers  were  called, 
respectively,  Academics  and  Cynics.  Thus,  by  these 
two  men,  was  the  higher  education  for  the  first  time 
introduced  into  the  public  institutions  of  Athens. 

Socrates’  aim,  as  we  have  seen,  had  been  purely  a 
moral  one,  and  this  fact  was  not  lost  sight  of  by  his 
immediate  followers.  The  chief  question  with  them 
all  was  still :  How  can  the  people  be  brought  back  to 
moral  life?  But,  thanks  partly  to  the  vagueness  in 
which  he  had  left  the  details  of  his  doctrine,  they 
were  divided  with  respect  to  the  means  whereby  this 
was  to  be  accomplished.  One  party,  best  represented 
by  Plato,  and  following  most  closely  in  the  footsteps 
of  the  master,  held  that,  man  being  essentially  a  social 
being,  and  morality  a  relation  in  society,  it  was  only  in 
and  through  a  social  order,  a  State,  that  virtue  could 
be  realized.  Another  party,  represented  by  Antis¬ 
thenes,  maintained  that  virtue  was  a  purely  personal 
matter,  and  that  the  wise  man  stood  high  above  any 
and  all  social  institutions.  These  two  views  main¬ 
tained  themselves,  side  by  side,  in  nearly  all  subse¬ 
quent  Greek  thought,  and  at  last  found  expression  in 
the  State  and  Church  of  the  Christian  world. 

Two  of  Socrates’  followers,  believers  in  institu- 


INDIVIDUALISM  AND  PHILOSOPHY 


113 


tional  morality,  left  behind  them  treatises  which  have 
come  down  to  us,  giving  their  views  as  to  the  manner 
in  which  virtue  might  be  cultivated.  These  are  the 
practical  Xenophon  and  the  theoretic  Plato,  both  men 
of  pure  Athenian  stock.  Nothing  will  better  enable 
us  to  comprehend  the  evils  of  the  “New  Education” 
than  a  consideration  of  the  means  by  which  these 
worthy  men  proposed  to  remedy  them.  Both  are 
idealists  and  Utopians;  but  the  former  is  conserva¬ 
tive  and  reactionary,  while  the  latter  is  speculative 
and  progressive.  Both  are  aiming  at  one  thing  —  a 
virtuous  and  happy  State,  to  replace  the  vicious  and 
wretched  one  in  which  they  found  their  lot  cast;  but 
they  differed  in  their  views  regarding  the  nature  of 
such  a  State,  and  the  means  of  realizing  it. 


CHAPTER  II 


XENOPHON 

Never  a  good  is  the  rule  of  the  many ;  let  one  be  the  ruler.  — 
Homer. 

Wealth  without  Worth  is  no  harmless  housemate.  —  Sappho. 

One  to  me  is  ten  thousand,  if  he  be  best. 

All  the  Ephesians,  from  youth  up,  ought  to  be  hanged  and  the 
State  left  to  the  boys,  because  they  cast  out  Hermodorus,  the  wor¬ 
thiest  man  amongst  them,  saying :  ‘  No  one  of  us  shall  be  worthiest, 
else  let  him  be  so  elsewhere  and  among  others.’  —  Heraclitus. 

Reflecting  once  that,  of  the  very  small  states,  Sparta  appeared  to 
be  the  most  powerful  and  the  most  renowned  in  Greece,  I  began  to 
wonder  in  what  way  this  had  come  about.  But  when  I  reflected 
upon  the  manners  of  the  Spartans,  I  ceased  to  wonder.  As  to  Ly- 
curgus,  who  drew  up  for  them  the  laws,  by  obedience  to  which  they 
have  prospered,  I  admire  him  and  hold  him  to  be,  in  the  highest 
degree,  a  wise  man.  For  he,  instead  of  imitating  other  states, 
reached  conclusions  opposite  to  those  of  most,  and  thereby  rendered 
his  country  conspicuous  for  prosperity.  — Xenophon. 

Xenophon  was  in  no  sense  a  philosopher  or  a  prac¬ 
tical  teacher,  but  he  was  a  man  of  sterling  worth,  of 
knightly  courage,  of  wide  and  varied  experience,  of 
strong  sagacity,  and  of  genial  disposition,  a  keen  ob¬ 
server,  and  a  charming  writer.  He  was  a  true  old 
Athenian  puritan,  broadened  and  softened  by  study 
and  contact  with  the  world.  He  hated  democracy  so 
cordially  that  he  would  not  live  in  Athens  to  witness 

its  vulgarity  and  disorder;  but  he  loved  his  coun- 

114 


XENOPHON 


115 


try,  and  desired  to  see  its  people  restored  to  their 
ancient  worth.  He  believed  that  this  could  be  done 
only  by  some  great,  royal  personality,  like  Lycurgus 
or  Cyrus,  enforcing  a  rigid  discipline,  and  once  more 
reducing  the  man  to  the  citizen.  Unwilling,  probably, 
to  hold  up  hated  Sparta  as  a  model  to  his  beaten  and 
smarting  countrymen,  he  laid  the  scene  of  his  peda¬ 
gogical  romance  in  far-off  Persia. 

In  the  Education  of  Gyrus  (Kvpov  muSeia)  we  have 
Xenophon’s  scheme  for  a  perfect  education.  Despite 
the  scene  in  which  it  is  laid,  it  is  purely  Hellenic, 
made  up  of  Athenian  and  Spartan  elements  in  about 
equal  proportions.  For  this  reason  also  it  has  a  special 
interest  for  us.  As  the  portion  of  the  treatise  deal¬ 
ing  directly  with  public  education  is  brief,  we  can 
hardly  do  better  than  transcribe  it  in  a  translation. 

“  Cyrus  is  still  celebrated  in  legend  and  song  by  the 
barbarians  as  a  man  of  extraordinary  personal  beauty, 
and  as  of  a  most  gentle,  studious,  and  honor-loving  dis¬ 
position,  which  made  him  ready  to  undergo  any  labor, 
and  brave  any  danger,  for  the  sake  of  praise.  Such  is 
the  account  that  has  been  handed  down  of  his  appear¬ 
ance  and  disposition.  He  was,  of  course,  educated  in 
accordance  with  the  laws  of  the  Persians.  These  laws 
seem  to  begin  their  efforts  for  the  public  weal  at  a 
different  point  from  those  of  most  other  states;  for 
most  states,  after  allowing  parents  to  educate  their 
children  as  they  please,  and  the  older  people  even  to 
spend  their  time  according  to  their  own  preference, 
lay  down  such  laws  as:  Thou  shalt  not  steal,  Thou 
shalt  not  rob,  Thou  shalt  not  commit  burglary,  Thou 
shalt  not  commit  assault,  Thou  shalt  not  commit 


116 


ARISTOTLE 


adultery,  Thou  shalt  not  disobey  a  magistrate,  etc. ; 
and  if  any  one  transgresses  any  of  these  laws,  they 
inflict  punishment  on  him.  The  Persian  laws,  on  the 
contrary,  provide  beforehand  that  the  citizens  shall 
never,  from  the  very  first,  have  any  disposition  to 
commit  a  wicked  or  base  act.  And  they  do  so  in  this 
way.  They  have  what  they  call  a  Freemen’s  Square, 
where  the  royal  palace  and  the  other  public  buildings 
stand.  From  this  square  are  removed  all  wares  and 
chatterers,  with  their  cries  and  vulgarities,  to  an¬ 
other  place,  so  that  their  din  and  disorder  may  not 
interfere  with  the  decorum  of  the  cultivated  class. 
This  square  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  public  build¬ 
ings  is  divided  into  four  parts,  one  for  boys,  one  for 
youths  one  for  mature  men,  and  one  for  men 

beyond  the  military  age.  The  hour  when  these  shall 
appear  in  their  places  is  settled  by  law.  The  boys 
and  mature  men  come  at  daybreak,  the  older  men 
when  they  think  fit,  except  on  the  special  days  when 
they  are  bound  to  appear.  The  youths  pass  the  night 
by  the  public  buildings  in  light  armor,  only  those  wrho 
are  married  being  excused.  These  are  not  hunted  up, 
unless  they  have  been  ordered  beforehand  to  appear; 
but  it  is  not  thought  decent  to  be  often  absent.  Each 
of  these  divisions  is  under  the  charge  of  twelve  gov¬ 
ernors,  one  from  each  of  the  twelve  tribes  into  which 
the  Persians  are  divided.  The  governors  of  the  boys 
are  chosen  from  among  the  elderly  men,  with  special 
view  to  their  fitness  for  making  the  most  of  boys, 
while  those  of  the  youths  are  chosen  from  among  the 
mature  men  upon  a  similar  principle.  Those  of  the 
mature  men  are  selected  with  a  view  to  their  ability 


XENOPHON 


117 


to  hold  these  to  their  regular  duties,  and  to  the  special 
commands  of  the  supreme  authority.  Even  the  old 
men  have  presidents  appointed  over  them,  who  see 
that  they  perform  their  duty.  What  the  duties  of 
each  are  we  shall  now  state,  in  order  to  show  just  how 
provision  is  made  for  securing  the  highest  worth  on 
the  part  of  the  citizens. 

“First,  then,  the  boys,  when  they  go  to  school, 
spend  their  time  in  learning  justice.  They  say  they 
go  for  that  purpose,  just  as  our  boys  go  to  learn  let¬ 
ters.  Their  governors  spend  the  greater  part  of  the 
day  in  acting  as  judges  among  them.  It  is  needless 
to  say  that  boys,  as  well  as  men,  bring  charges  against 
each  other  of  theft  and  robbery  and  violence  and  de¬ 
ceit  and  slander,  and  similar  things,  and  those  whom 
the  judges  find  guilty  of  any  of  these  they  punish. 
But  they  also  punish  those  whom  they  find  bringing 
false  charges.  They  pronounce  judgment  likewise  on 
a  charge  which,  more  than  anything  else,  makes  men 
hate  each  other,  and  for  which  they  are  judged  less 
than  for  any  other,  namely,  ingratitude.  If  the  judges 
find  a  boy  in  a  position  to  return  a  favor  and  not  doing 
it,  they  punish  him  severely,  believing  that  persons 
who  are  ungrateful  will,  more  than  any  others,  be 
undutiful  to  the  gods,  to  parents,  country,  and  friends. 
It  is  generally  held  that  ingratitude,  more  than  aught 
else,  leads  to  irreverence,  and  we  need  not  add  that  it 
is  the  prime  mover  in  every  form  of  baseness.  They 
teach  the  boys  also  self-denial,  and  these  are  greatly 
aided  in  learning  this  virtue  from  seeing  it  daily 
practised  by  tlieir  elders.  Another  thing  they  teach 
them  is  obedience  to  those  placed  in  authority  over 


118 


ARISTOTLE 


them;  and  they  are  greatly  aided  in  learning  this, 
by  seeing  their  elders  strictly  obeying  their  governors. 
Another  thing  yet  which  they  teach  them  is  self-dis¬ 
cipline  in  matters  of  eating  and  drinking;  and  they 
are  greatly  aided  in  this  by  seeing  that  their  elders 
never  absent  themselves  for  the  purpose  of  eating, 
until  they  are  permitted  to  do  so  by  their  governors, 
as  well  as  by  the  fact  that  they  (the  boys)  do  not  eat 
with  their  mothers,  but  with  their  teachers,  and  at  a 
signal  from  their  governors.  As  food,  they  bring  with 
them  from  home  bread,  as  a  relish,  nasturtium,  and 
in  order  to  drink,  if  they  are  thirsty,  they  bring  an 
earthen  cup  to  draw  water  from  the  river  with.  In 
addition  to  all  these  things,  the  boys  learn  to  shoot 
with  the  bow  and  to  throw  the  javelin.  Up  to  the  age 
of  sixteen  or  seventeen  years,  these  are  the  studies  in 
which  the  boys  engage ;  after  that  they  are  transferred 
to  the  class  of  cadets  (e(pr](Soi). 

“  These  cadets  spend  their  time  in  this  way:  For 
ten  years  from  the  time  when  they  graduate  from  the 
boys’  class,  they  sleep,  as  we  have  already  said,  in 
the  precincts  of  the  public  buildings,  acting  at  once  as 
a  guard  to  the  city  and  practising  self-denial.  It  is 
generally  agreed,  indeed,  that  this  is  the  age  which 
especially  requires  attention.  During  the  day  they 
are  at  the  disposal  of  their  governors,  and  ready  to 
perform  any  public  service  required.  If  no  such  ser¬ 
vice  is  demanded,  they  remain  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  public  buildings.  When  the  king  goes  out  to  hunt, 
which  he  does  many  times  a  month,  he  takes  with  him 
one-half  of  the  tribes,  and  leaves  the  other  behind. 
Those  youths  who  accompany  him  must  carry  with 


XENOPHON 


119 


them  bows  and,  in  a  sheath  alongside  their  quivers,  a 
bill  or  scimitar;  also  a  light  shield,  and  two  javelins 
apiece,  one  to  throw,  the  other  to  use,  if  necessary,  at 
close  quarters.  For  this  reason  they  make  hunting  a 
matter  of  public  concern,  and  the  king,  as  in  war,  acts 
as  their  leader,  hunts  himself,  and  sees  that  the  others 
hunt,  the  Persians  being  of  opinion  that  this  is  the 
best  of  all  preparations  for  war.  And,  indeed,  it  accus¬ 
toms  them  to  rise  early,  and  to  bear  heat  and  cold ;  it 
affords  them  exercise  in  marching  and  running,  and 
compels  them  to  use  their  bows  or  their  javelins  upon 
wild  animals,  wherever  they  happen  to  come  upon 
them.  They  are  often  forced,  moreover,  to  sharpen 
their  courage,  when  they  find  themselves  face  to  face 
with  some  powerful  animal.  They  must,  of  course, 
wound  the  one  that  comes  to  close  quarters,  and  hold 
at  bay  the  one  that  attacks  them.  Hence  it  is  difficult 
to  find  in  war  anything  that  is  absent  from  the  chase. 
When  they  go  out  to  hunt,  the  young  men,  of  course, 
take  with  them  a  larger  luncheon  than  the  boys  are 
allowed  to  have;  but  this  is  the  only  difference  be¬ 
tween  the  two.  And  while  they  are  hunting,  they 
sometimes  do  not  lunch  at  all;  but,  if  they  have  to 
remain  beyond  their  time  on  account  of  some  game, 
or  otherwise,  if  they  wish  to  prolong  the  chase,  they 
make  a  dinner  of  this  lunch,  and  on  the  following  day 
continue  the  hunt  till  dinner-time,  counting  the  two 
days  one,  because  they  consume  only  one  day’s  food. 
And  they  do  this  for  the  sake  of  practice,  so  that,  if 
ever  they  should  run  short  of  provisions  in  war,  they 
may  be  able  to  do  the  same  thing.  These  youths  have 
as  a  relish  what  game  they  capture  in  the  chase,  other- 


120 


ARISTOTLE 


wise  they  have  nasturtium.  And  if  any  one  thinks 
that  they  eat  without  pleasure,  when  they  have  only 
nasturtium  with  their  food,  or  drink  without  pleasure, 
when  they  drink  water,  let  him  remember  liow  sweet 
barley-cake  and  wheaten  bread  are  when  he  is  hungry, 
and  how  sweet  water  is  when  he  is  thirsty.  The  tribes 
that  remain  behind,  when  the  king  goes  hunting, 
spend  their  time  in  the  same  studies  which  they  pur¬ 
sued  as  boys,  including  shooting  and  javelin-casting, 
and  in  these  continual  contests  are  going  on.  There 
are  likewise  public  exhibitions  in  them,  at  which 
prizes  are  offered ;  and  whichever  tribe  contains  most 
young  men  exceptionally  proficient,  manly,  and  steady, 
is  commended  by  the  citizens,  who  likewise  honor,  not 
only  their  present  governor,  but  also  the  governor  who 
had  charge  of  them  as  boys.  The  young  men  who  are 
left  behind  are  also  employed  by  the  authorities,  if 
any  such  service  is  required  as  manning  a  guard-house, 
tracking  out  malefactors,  running  down  robbers,  or 
anything  demanding  strength  and  swiftness.  Such 
are  the  studies  of  the  young  men.  And  when  they 
have  passed  ten  years  in  these,  they  graduate  into  the 
class  of  mature  men. 

“  From  the  date  of  this  graduation,  they  spend  five 
and  twenty  years  more  in  the  following  manner :  In 
the  first  place,  like  the  young  men,  they  place  them¬ 
selves  at  the  disposal  of  the  authorities  for  any  public 
service  requiring  at  once  sagacity  and  unimpaired 
strength.  If  they  are  required  to  take  the  field  in  war, 
men  proficient  as  they  are  go  armed,  no  longer  with 
bows  and  javelins,  but  with  what  are  called  hand-to- 
hand  weapons,  breast-plates,  shields  in  their  left 


XENOPHON 


121 

hands,  such  as  we  see  in  pictures  of  the  Persians, 
and  a  sword  or  hill  in  their  right.  And  all  the  offi¬ 
cials  are  drawn  from  this  class,  except  the  boys’ 
teachers.  And  when  they  have  passed  twenty-five 
years  in  this  class,  they  are  something  more  than  fifty 
years  of  age.  At  that  age  they  graduate  into  the  class 
of  elders,  as,  indeed,  they  a^e  called. 

“  These  elders  no  longer  serve  in  war  outside 
their  own  country,  but,  remaining  at  home,  act  as 
judges  in  public  and  private  cases.  They  do  so  even 
in  capital  cases.  They  likewise  choose  all  the  officials, 
and  if  any  person  belonging  to  either  of  the  classes  of 
young  and  mature  men  neglects  any  of  his  lawful 
duties,  the  governor  of  his  tribe,  or  any  one  else  who 
pleases,  may  report  him  to  the  elders,  and  these,  if 
they  find  the  fact  to  be  as  reported,  expel  him  from 
his  tribe,  and  he  who  is  expelled  remains  dishonored 
all  his  life. 

“  To  give  a  clearer  notion  of  the  polity  of  the  Per¬ 
sians  as  a  whole,  I  will  retrace  my  steps  a  little. 
After  what  has  been  said,  this  may  be  done  in  a  very 
few  words:  The  Persians,  then,  are  said  to  number 
about  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand.  Of  these, 
none  is  excluded  by  law  from  honors  or  offices;  but 
all  Persians  are  allowed  to  send  their  sons  to  the 
public  schools  of  justice.  However,  it  is  only  those 
who  are  able  to  maintain  their  sons  without  employ¬ 
ment  that  send  them  there :  the  rest  do  not.  On  the 
other  hand,  those  that  are  educated  by  the  public 
teachers  are  permitted  to  spend  their  youth  among 
the  epheboi,  while  those  who  have  not  completed  this 
education  are  not.  Again  those  that  pass  their  youth 


122 


ARISTOTLE 


among  the  epheboi,  and  come  up  to  the  legal  require¬ 
ments,  are  allowed  to  graduate  into  the  class  of  mature 
men,  and  to  participate  in  honors  and  offices ;  whereas 
those  who  do  not  pass  through  the  grade  of  the 
epheboi  do  not  rise  to  the  class  of  mature  men.  Finally, 
those  who  complete  the  curriculum  of  the  mature  men 
without  reproach,  pass  ipto  the  class  of  elders.  Thus 
it  is  that  this  class  of  elders  is  composed  of  men  who 
have  passed  through  all  the  grades  of  culture.  Such  is 
the  polity  of  the  Persians,  and  such  is  the  system  of 
training  whereby  they  endeavor  to  secure  the  highest 
worth.” 

This  Utopian  scheme  of  education  has  a  peculiar 
interest,  because  it  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  the 
old  ideal  of  Greek  education  become  fully  conscious  of 
itself,  under  the  influence  of  the  new  ideal.  Let  us 
call  attention  to  the  main  points  of  it.  (1)  The  edu¬ 
cation  here  set  forth  is  purely- political :  men  are  re¬ 
garded  simply  and  solely  as  citizens ;  all  honors  are 
civic  honors.  (2)  No  provision  is  made  for  the  edu¬ 
cation  of  women,  their  range  of  activity  being  entirely 
confined  to  the  family.  (3)  Distinction  is  made  to 
rest  upon  education  and  conduct.  (4)  The  poorer 
classes  of  the  population,  though  not  legally  excluded 
from  education,  position,  and  power,  are  virtually  ex¬ 
cluded  by  their  poverty,  so  that  the  government  is 
altogether  in  the  hands  of  the  rich,  and  is,  in  fact,  an 
aristocracy,  while  pretending  to  be  a  democracy: 
hence,  (5)  Social  distinctions  are  distinctions  of 
worth,  which  is  just  the  Greek  ideal. 

There  is,  however,  one  point  in  the  scheme  which 
shows  that  it  is  reactionary,  directed  against  prevail- 


XENOPHON 


123 


ing  tendencies.  Not  one  word  is  said  of  the  intel¬ 
lectual  side  of  education,  of  music  or  letters.  It  is 
evident  that  Xenophon,  himself  a  man  of  no  mean 
literary  attainments,  clearly  saw  the  dangers  to 
Greek  life  and  liberty  involved  in  that  exaggerated 
devotion  to  literary  and  intellectual  pursuits  which 
followed  the  teaching  of  the  sophists  and  Socrates, 
and  that,  in  order  to  check  this  perilous  tendency,  he 
drew  up  a  scheme  of  education  from  which  intellec¬ 
tual  and  literary  pursuits  are  altogether  excluded,  in 
which  justice  takes  the  place  of  letters,  and  music  is 
not  mentioned. 

This  suggests  a  curious  inquiry  in  respect  to  his 
Memoirs  of  Socrates.  This  work  has  generally  been 
regarded  as  giving  us  a  more  correct  notion  of  the 
real,  living  Socrates  than  the  manifestly  idealizing 
works  of  Plato.  But  was  not  Xenophon,  who  could 
not  fail  to  see  the  future  power  of  Socrates’  influence, 
as  anxious  as  Plato  to  claim  the  prophet  as  the  cham¬ 
pion  of  his  own  views,  and  does  not  this  fact  deter¬ 
mine  the  whole  character  of  his  work?  Is  it  not  a 
romance,  in  the  same  sense  that  the  Cyropazdia  is,  with 
only  this  difference,  that  the  facts  of  Socrates’  life, 
being  fairly  well  known  to  those  for  whom  Xenophon 
was  writing,  could  not  be  treated  with  the  same  free¬ 
dom  and  disregard  as  those  of  Cyrus’  life? 

Before  we  part  with  Xenophon,  we  must  call  atten¬ 
tion  to  another  treatise  of  his,  in  which  he  deals  with 
a  subject  that  was  then  pressing  for  consideration  — 
the  education  of  women.  While,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  iEolian  states  and  even  Dorian  Sparta  provided, 
in  some  degree,  for  women’s  education,  Athens  appar- 


124 


ARISTOTLE 


ently,  conceiving  that  woman  had  no  duties  outside 
of  the  family,  left  her  education  entirely  to  the  care 
of  that  institution.  The  conservative  Xenophon  does 
not  depart  from  this  view;  but,  seeing  the  moral  evils 
that  were  springing  from  the  neglect  of  women  and 
their  inability  to  be,  in  any  sense,  companions  to 
their  cultured,  or  over-cultured,  husbands,  he  lays 
down  in  his  (Economics  a  scheme  for  the  education  of 
the  young  wife  by  her  husband.  As  this  affords  us  an 
admirable  insight  into  the  lives  of  Athenian  girls  and 
women,  better,  indeed,  than  can  be  found  elsewhere, 
we  cannot  do  better  than  transcribe  the  first  pait  of  it. 
It  takes  the  form  of  a  conversation  between  Socrates 
and  a  young  husband,  named  Ischomachus  (Strong 
Fighter),  and  is  reported  by  the  former.  Socrates 
tells  how,  seeing  Ischomachus  sitting  at  leisure  in  a 
certain  portico,  he  entered  into  conversation  with 
him,  paid  him  an  acceptable  compliment,  and  inquired 
how  he  came  to  be  nearly  always  busy  out  of  doors, 
seeing  that  he  evidently  spent  little  time  in  the  house. 
Ischomachus  replies :  — 

“  ‘  As  to  your  inquiry,  Socrates,  it  is  true  that  I 
never  remain  indoors.  Xor  need  I;  for  my  wife  is 
fully  able  by  herself  to  manage  everything  in  the 
house.’  4 This  again,  Ischomachus,’  said  I,  4 is  some¬ 
thing  that  I  should  like  to  ask  you  about,  whether  it 
was  you  who  taught  your  wife  to  be  a  good  wife,  or 
whether  she  knew  all  her  household  duties  when  you 
received  her  from  her  father  and  mother.  TV  ell, 
Socrates,’  said  he,  4 what  do  you  suppose  she  knew 
when  I  took  her,  since  she  was  hardly  fifteen  when 
she  came  to  me,  and,  during  the  whole  of  her  life 


XENOPHON 


125 


before  that,  special  care  bad  been  taken  that  she  should 
see,  hear,  and  ask  as  little  as  possible.  Indeed,  don’t 
you  think  I  ought  to  have  been  satisfied  if,  when 
she  came  to  me,  she  knew  nothing  but  how  to  take 
wool  and  turn  it  into  a  garment,  and  had  seen  nothing 
but  how  tasks  in  spinning  are  assigned  to  maids?  As 
regards  matters  connected  with  eating  and  drinking, 
of  course  she  was  extremely  well  educated  when 
she  came,  and  this  seems  to  me  the  chief  education, 
whether  for  a  man  or  a  woman.’  ‘In  all  other  mat¬ 
ters,  Ischomachus,  ’  said  I,  ‘you  yourself  instructed 
your  wife,  so  as  to  make  her  an  excellent  housewife.’ 
‘To  be  sure,’  said  he,  ‘but  not  until  I  had  first  sacri¬ 
ficed,  and  prayed  that  I  might  succeed  in  teaching  her, 
and  she  might  succeed  in  learning,  what  was  best  for 
both  of  us.’  ‘Then,’  said  I,  ‘your  wife  took  part  in 
your  sacrifice  and  in  these  prayers,  did  she  not?  ’ 
‘Certainly  she  did,’  said  Ischomachus,  ‘and  solemnly 
promised  to  the  gods  that  she  would  be  what  she 
ought  to  be,  and  showed  every  evidence  of  a  disposi¬ 
tion  not  to  neglect  what  was  taught  her.’  ‘But  do,  I 
beseech  you,  Ischomachus,  explain  to  me,’  said  I, 
‘what  was  the  first  thing  you  set  about  teaching  her? 
I  shall  be  more  interested  in  hearing  you  tell  that, 
than  if  you  told  me  all  about  the  finest  gymnastic  or 
equestrian  exhibition.’  And  Ischomachus  replied: 
‘What  should  I  teach  her?  As  soon  as  she  could  be 
handled,  and  was  tame  enough  to  converse,  I  spoke 
to  her  in  some  such  way  as  this :  Tell  me,  my  dear, 
have  you  ever  considered  why  I  took  you  as  my  wife, 
and  why  your  parents  gave  you  to  me?  That  it  was 
not  because  I  could  not  find  any  one  else  to  share  my 


126 


ARISTOTLE 


bed,  you  know  as  well  as  I.  No,  but  because  I  was 
anxious  to  find  for  myself,  and  your  parents  were 
anxious  to  find  for  you,  the  most  suitable  partner  in 
home  and  offspring,  I  selected  you,  and  your  parents, 
it  seems,  selected  me,  out  of  all  possible  matches. 
If,  then,  God  shall  ever  bless  us  with  children,  then 
we  will  take  the  greatest  care  of  them,  and  try  to 
give  them  the  best  possible  education;  for  it  will 
prove  a  blessing  to  both  of  us  to  have  the  very  best 
of  helpers  and  supports  in  our  old  age.  But  at  pres¬ 
ent  we  have  this  as  our  common  home.  And  all  that 
I  have,  I  pass  over  to  the  common  stock,  and  all  that 
you  have  brought  with  you,  you  have  added  to  the 
same.  Nor  must  we  begin  to  count  which  of  us  has 
contributed  the  larger  number  of  things,  but  must 
realize  that  whichever  of  us  is  the  better  partner  con¬ 
tributes  the  more  valuable  things.  Then,  Socrates, 
my  wife  replied,  and  said :  In  what  way  can  I  cooper¬ 
ate  with  you?  What  power  have  I?  Everything 
rests  with  you.  My  mother  told  me  that  my  only 
duty  was  to  be  dutiful.  Assuredly,  my  dear,  said  I, 
and  my  father  told  me  the  same  thing.  But  it  is 
surely  the  duty  of  a  dutiful  husband  and  a  dutiful 
wife  to  act  so  that  what  they  have  may  be  improved 
to  the  utmost,  and  by  every  fair  and  lawful  means 
increased  to  the  utmost.  And  what  do  you  find,  said 
my  wife,  that  I  can  do  towards  helping  you  to  build 
up  our  house?  Dear  me!  said  I,  whatever  things  the 
gods  have  endowed  you  with  the  power  to  do,  and  the 
law  permits,  try  to  do  these  to  the  best  of  your  abil¬ 
ity.  And  what  are  these?  said  she.  It  strikes  me, 
said  I,  that  they  are  by  no  means  the  least  important 


XENOPHON 


127 


things,  unless  it  be  true  that  in  the  hive  the  queen- 
bee  is  entrusted  with  the  least  important  functions. 
Indeed,  it  seems  to  me,  my  dear,  I  continued,  that 
the  very  gods  have  yoked  together  this  couple  called 
male  and  female  with  a  very  definite  purpose,  viz.  to 
be  the  source  of  the  greatest  mutual  good  to  the  yoke¬ 
fellows.  In  the  first  place,  this  union  exists  in  order 
that  living  species  may  not  die  out,  but  be  preserved 
by  propagation;  in  the  second,  the  partners  in  this 
union,  at  least  in  the  case  of  human  beings,  obtain 
through  it  the  supports  of  their  old  age.  Moreover, 
human  beings  do  not  live,  like  animals,  in  the  open 
air,  but  obviously  require  roofs.  And  I  am  sure, 
people  who  are  going  to  have  anything  to  bring  under 
a  roof  must  have  some  one  to  do  outdoor  duties; 
for,  you  see,  ploughing,  sowing,  planting,  herding, 
are  all  outdoor  employments,  and  it  is  from  them 
that  we  obtain  all  our  supplies.  On  the  other  hand, 
when  the  supplies  have  all  been  brought  under  cover, 
there  is  needed  some  one  to  take  care  of  them,  and  to 
perform  those  duties  which  must  be  done  indoors. 
Among  these  are  the  rearing  of  children  and  the 
preparation  of  food  from  the  produce  of  the  earth; 
likewise  the  making  of  cloth  out  of  wool.  And,  since 
both  these  classes  of  duties,  the  outdoor  and  the 
indoor,  require  labor  and  care,  it  seems  to  me,  I  said, 
that  God  has  constructed  the  nature  of  woman  with  a 
special  view  to  indoor  employments  and  cares,  and 
that  of  man  with  a  view  to  outdoor  employments  and 
cares.  For  he  has  made  both  the  body  and  the  soul  of 
the  man  better  able  than  those  of  the  woman  to  bear 
cold,  heat,  travelling,  military  service,  and  so  has 


128 


ARISTOTLE 


assigned  to  him  the  outdoor  employments.  And,  since 
he  has  made  the  body  of  woman  less  able  to  endure 
these  things,  he  seems  to  me  to  have  assigned  to  her 
the  indoor  employments.  Considering,  moreover, 
that  he  had  made  it  woman’s  nature  and  duty  to 
nourish  young  children,  he  imparted  to  her  a  greater 
love  for  babies  than  he  did  to  man.  And,  inasmuch 
as  he  had  made  it  part  of  woman’s  duty  to  take  care 
of  the  income  of  the  family,  God,  knowing  that  for 
care-taking  the  soul  is  none  the  worse  for  being  ready 
to  fear,  bestowed  upon  woman  a  greater  share  of 
fear  than  upon  a  man.  On  the  other  hand,  knowing 
that  he  who  attends  to  the  outdoor  employments  will 
have  to  protect  the  family  from  wrong-doers,  he 
endowed  him  with  a  greater  share  of  courage.  And, 
since  both  have  to  give  and  receive,  he  divided  mem¬ 
ory  and  carefulness  between  them,  so  that  it  would  be 
difficult  to  determine  which  of  the  sexes,  the  male  or 
the  female,  is  the  better  equipped  with  these.  And 
the  necessary  self-denial  he  divided  between  them, 
and  made  a  decree  that,  whichever  of  the  two,  the 
husband  or  the  wife,  was  the  superior,  should  be 
rewarded  with  the  larger  share  of  this  blessing.  And 
just  because  the  nature  of  man  and  the  nature  of 
woman  are  not  both  equally  fitted  for  all  tasks,  the 
two  are  the  more  dependent  upon  each  other,  and 
their  union  is  the  more  beneficial  to  them,  because  the 
one  is  able  to  supply  what  the  other  lacks.  And  now, 
said  I,  my  dear,  that  we  know  the  duties  which  God 
has  assigned  to  us  respectively,  it  becomes  each  of 
us  to  do  our  best,  in  order  to  perform  these  duties. 
And  the  law,  I  continued,  coincides  with  the  divine 


XENOPHON 


129 


intention,  and  unites  man  and  woman.  And,  just  as 
God  has  made  them  partners  in  offspring,  so  the  law 
makes  them  partners  in  the  household.  And  the  law 
sets  its  approval  upon  that  difference  of  function 
which  God  has  signified  by  the  difference  of  ability 
which  marks  -the  sexes.  For  it  is  more  respectable 
for  a  woman  to  remain  indoors  than  to  spend  her  time 
out  of  doors,  and  less  respectable  for  a  man  to  remain 
indoors  than  to  attend  to  outdoor  concerns.  And,  if 
any  one  acts  in  a  manner  at  variance  with  this  divine 
ordination,  it  may  be  that  his  transgression  does  not 
escape  the  notice  of  the  gods,  and  that  he  is  punished 
for  neglecting  his  own  duties  or  performing  those  of 
his  wife.  It  appears  to  me,  said  I,  that  the  (preen 
bee  also  performs  duties  that  are  assigned  to  her  by 
God.  And  what  duties,  said  my  wife,  does  the  queen- 
bee  perform,  that  have  any  resemblance  to  those 
incumbent  upon  me?  This,  said  I,  that  she  remains 
in  the  hive  and  does  not  allow  the  other  bees  to  be 
idle,  but  sends  out  those  that  have  to  work  to  their 
business,  and  knows  and  receives  what  each  brings 
in,  and  takes  care  of  it  till  it  is  needed  for  use.  And 
when  the  time  for  using  conies,  she  distributes  to  each 
her  just  share.  Besides  this,  she  attends  to  the  con¬ 
struction  of  the  honey-combs  that  goes  on  indoors, 
and  sees  that  it  is  done  properly  and  rapidly,  and 
carefully  sees  that  the  young  swarm  is  properly 
reared.  And  when  it  is  old  enough,  and  the  young 
bees  are  fit  for  work,  she  sends  them  out,  as  a  colony, 
under  the  leadership  of  one  of  the  old  ones.  And 
will  it  be  my  duty,  said  my  wife,  to  do  these  things? 
Exactly  so,  said  I,  it  will  be  your  duty  to  remain 


130 


ARISTOTLE 


indoors,  to  send  out  together  to  their  work  those 
whose  duties  lie  out  of  doors,  and  to  superintend  those 
who  have  to  work  indoors,  to  receive  whatever  is 
brought  in,  to  dispense  whatever  has  to  be  paid  out, 
while  the  necessary  surplus  you  must  provide  for,  and 
take  care  that  the  year’s  allowance  be  not  spent  in  a 
month.  When  wool  is  brought  in  to  you,  you  must 
see  that  it  is  turned  into  cloth;  and  when  dried  grain 
comes,  that  it  is  properly  prepared  for  food.  There 
is,  however,  one  of  your  duties,  said  I,  that  will 
perhaps  seem  somewhat  disagreeable  to  you.  When¬ 
ever  any  one  of  the  slaves  is  sick,  you  will  have  to 
see  that  he  is  properly  nursed,  no  matter  who  he  is. 
Indeed,  said  my  wife,  that  will  be  a  most  pleasant 
duty,  if  those  who  have  been  carefully  nursed  are  go¬ 
ing  to  be  grateful  and  kindlier  than  they  were  before. 
And  I,  ’  said  Ischomachus,  ‘  admiring  her  answer,  con¬ 
tinued:  Don’t  you  suppose,  my  dear,  that  by  such 
examples  of  care  on  the  part  of  the  queen  of  the  hive 
the  bees  are  so  disposed  to  her  that,  when  she  leaves, 
none  of  them  are  willing  to  remain  behind,  but  all 
follow  her?  And  my  wife  replied:  I  should  be  sur¬ 
prised  if  the  duties  of  headship  did  not  fall  to  you 
rather  than  to  me.  For  my  guardianship  and  disposal 
of  things  in  the  house  would  be  ridiculous,  unless  you 
saw  to  it  that  something  was  brought  in  from  without. 
And  my  bringing-in  would  be  ridiculous,  said  I,  if 
there  were  no  one  to  take  care  of  what  I  brought? 
Don’t  you  see,  I  said,  how  those  who  pour  water  into  a 
leaky  barrel,  as  the  expression  is,  are  pitied,  as  wast¬ 
ing  their  labour?  And  indeed,  said  my  wife,  they  are 
to  be  pitied,  if  they  do  that,  There  are  other  special 


XENOPHON 


131 


duties,  said  I,  that  are  sure  to  become  pleasant  to 
you;  for  example,  when  you  take  a  raw  hand  at 
weaving  and  turn  her  into  an  adept,  and  so  double 
her  value  to  you,  or  when  you  take  a  raw  hand  at 
managing  and  waiting  and  make  her  capable,  reliable, 
and  serviceable,  so  that  she  acquires  untold  value,  or 
when  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  reward  those  male 
slaves  that  are  dutiful  and  useful  to  your  family,  or 
to  punish  one  who  proves  the  opposite  of  this.  But 
the  pleasantest  thing  of  all  will  be,  if  you  prove 
superior  to  me,  and  make  me  your  knight,  and  if  you 
need  not  fear  that,  as  you  advance  in  years,  you  will 
forfeit  respect  in  the  house,  but  are  sure  that,  as  you 
grow  older,  the  better  a  partner  you  are  to  me,  and 
the  better  a  mother  to  the  children,  the  more  highly 
you  will  be  respected  in  the  house.  For  all  that  is 
fair  and  good,  said  I,  increases  for  men,  as  life 
advances,  not  through  beauties,  but  through  virtues. 
Such,  Socrates,  to  the  best  of  my  recollection,  was  the 
first  conversation  I  had  with  my  wife.7  ” 

Ischomachus  goes  on  and  tells  how,  in  subsequent 
conversations,  he  taught  his  wife  the  value  of  order, 
“  how  to  have  a  place  for  everything,  and  everything 
in  its  place,”  how  to  train  a  servant,  and  how  to 
make  herself  attractive  without  the  use  of  cosmetics 
or  fine  clothes.  But  enough  has  been  quoted  to  show 
what  the  ideal  family  relation  among  the  Athenians 
was,  and  what  education  was  thought  fitting  for  girls 
and  women.  Just  as  the  man  was  merged  in  the 
citizen,  so  the  woman  was  merged  in  the  housewife, 
and  they  each  received  the  education  and  training 
demanded  by  their  respective  duties.  If  Athenian 


132 


ARISTOTLE 


husbands  had  all  been  like  Ischomachus,  it  is  clear 
that  the  lives  of  wives  might  have  been  very  happy 
and  useful,  and  that  harmony  might  have  reigned  in 
the  family.  But,  unfortunately,  that  was  not  very 
often  the  case.  Wives,  being  neglected,  became  lazy, 
wasteful,  self-indulgent,  shrewish,  and  useless,  while 
their  husbands,  finding  them  so,  sought  in  immoral 
relations  with  brilliant  and  cultivated  hetcerce,  or  in 
worse  relations  still,  a  coarse  substitute  for  that  satis¬ 
faction  which  they  ought  to  have  sought  and  found  in 
their  own  homes.  Thus  there  grew  up  a  condition  of 
things  which  could  not  fail  to  sap  the  moral  founda¬ 
tions  of  society,  and  which  made  thoughtful  men  turn 
their  attention  to  the  question  of  woman’s  education 
and  sphere  of  duty. 


CHAPTER  III 


PLATO 

All  human  laws  are  nourished  by  the  one  divine  law ;  for  it  pre¬ 
vailed  as  far  as  it  listeth,  and  sufficed  for  all  and  survived  all.  — 
Heraclitus. 

Though  reason  is  universal,  the  mass  of  men  live  as  if  they  had 
each  a  private  wisdom  of  his  own.  —  Id. 

Antigone.  .  .  .  But  him  will  I  inter ; 

And  sweet  Twill  be  to  die  in  such  a  deed, 

And  sweet  will  be  my  rest  with  him,  the  sweet, 

When  I  have  righteously  offended  here. 

For  longer  time,  methinks,  have  I  to  please 
The  dwellers  in  yon  world  than  those  in  this ; 

For  I  shall  rest  forever  there.  But  thou, 

Dishonor  still  what’s  honored  of  the  gods. 

—  Sophocles,  Antigone. 

The  circle  that  gathered  round  Isaiah  and  his  household  in  these 
evil  days,  holding  themselves  apart  from  their  countrymen,  treas¬ 
uring  the  word  of  revelation,  and  waiting  for  Jehovah,  were  indeed, 
as  Isaiah  describes  them,  “  signs  and  tokens  in  Israel  from  Jehovah 
of  hosts  that  dwelled  in  Mount  Zion.”  The  formation  of  this  little 
community  was  a  new  thing  in  the  history  of  religion.  Till  then  no 
one  had  dreamed  of  a  fellowship  of  faith  dissociated  from  all  national 
forms,  maintained  without  the  exercise  of  ritual  services,  bound 
together  by  faith  in  the  divine  word  alone.  It  was  the  birth  of  a 
new  era  in  the  Old  Testament  religion,  for  it  was  the  birth  of  the 
conception  of  the  Church,  the  first  step  in  the  emancipation  of  spir¬ 
itual  religion  from  the  forms  of  political  life,  —  a  step  not  less  sig¬ 
nificant  that  all  its  consequences  were  not  seen  till  centuries  had 
passed  away.  —  W.  Robertson  Smith,  Prophets  of  Israel. 

Still  at  the  prophets’  feet  the  nations  sit.  —  Lowell. 

133 


134 


ARISTOTLE 


That  which  is  to  be  known  I  shall  declare,  knowing  which  a 
man  attains  immortality  —  the  beginningless  Supreme  Brahma  that 
is  said  to  be  neither  Aught  nor  Naught.  Bliayavad  Gita. 

The  only  Metaphysics  which  really  and  immediately  sustains 
Ethics  is  one  which  is  itself  primarily  ethical,  and  made  of  the  staff 
of  Ethics.  —  Schopenhauer. 

In  answer  to  the  burning  question,  How  can  Athens 
be  brought  back  to  moral  life  and  strength?  Socrates 
had  answered,  “  By  finding  a  new  moral  sanction.”  He 
had  even  gone  further,  and  said:  “This  sanction  is 
to  be  found  in  correct  thinking,  in  thinking  whole 
thoughts,  which,  because  they  are  whole,  are  abso¬ 
lutely  true,  being  the  very  principles  according  to 
which  God  governs  the  world.”  This  is,  obviously, 
a  mere  formal  answer.  If  it  was  to  be  of  any  real 
service,  three  further  questions  had  to  be  answered: 
(1)  How  can  whole  thoughts  be  reached?  (2)  What 
do  they  prove  to  be  when  they  are  reached?  (3)  How 
can  they  be  applied  to  the  moral  reorganization  of 
human  life?  Plato’s  philosophy  is  but  an  attempt  to 
answer  these  questions.  It  therefore  naturally  falls 
into  three  divisions,  (1)  Dialectics,  including  Logic 
and  Theory  of  Knowledge,  (2)  Theoretics,  including 
Metaphysics  and  Physics,  (3)  Practics,  including 
Ethics  and  Politics. 

It  is  obvious  that  any  attempt  to  reform  society  on 
Socratic  principles  must  proceed,  not  from  society  it¬ 
self,  but  from  some  person  or  persons  in  whom  these 
principles  are  realized,  and  who  act  upon  it  from 
without.  These  persons  will  be  the  philosophers  or, 
rather,  the  sages.  Two  distinct  questions,  therefore, 
present  themselves  at  the  outset :  (1)  How  does  a  man 


PLATO 


135 


become  a  sage?  (2)  How  can  the  sage  organize  human 
life,  and  secure  a  succession  of  sages  to  continue  his 
work  after  him?  To  the  first  of  these  questions,  dia¬ 
lectics  gives  the  answer;  to  the  second,  practics; 
while  theoretics  exhibits  to  us  at  once  the  origin  and 
the  end,  that  is,  the  meaning,  of  all  existence,  the 
human  included.  In  the  teaching  of  Plato  we  find, 
for  the  first  time  recognized  and  exhibited,  the  extra- 
civic  or  super-civic  man,  the  man  who  is  not  a  mere 
fragment  of  a  social  whole,  completely  subordinated 
to  it,  but  who,  standing  above  society,  moulds  it  in 
accordance  with  ideas  derived  from  a  higher  source. 
Forecasts  of  this  man,  indeed,  we  find  in  all  Greek 
literature  from  Homer  down, —  in  Heraclitus,  Sopho¬ 
cles,  etc.,  and  especially,  as  we  have  seen,  in  Pythag¬ 
oras  ;  —  but  it  is  now  for  the  first  time  that  he  finds 
full  expression,  and  tries  to  play  a  conscious  part.  In 
him  we  have  the  promise  of  the  future  Church. 

But  to  return  to  the  first  of  our  two  questions,  How 
does  a  man  become  a  sage?  We  found  the  answer  to 
be,  By  the  dialectic  method.  Of  this,  however,  not  all 
men  have  the  inclination  to  avail  themselves,  but  only 
a  chosen  few,  to  whom  the  gods  have  granted  the  in¬ 
spiration  of  Love  (epw?)  —  a  longing  akin  to  madness 
(fxavca),  kindled  by  physical  beauty,  but  tending  to  the 
Supreme  Good.  This  good,  as  we  shall  see,  consists 
in  the  vision  (Oewpca)  of  eternal  truth,  of  being,  as  it 
is.  The  few  men  who  are  blessed  with  this  love 
are  the  divinely  appointed  reformers  and  guides  of 
mankind,  the  well-being  of  which  depends  upon  sub¬ 
mission  to  them.  The  dialectic  method  is  the  process 
by  which  the  inspired  mind  rises  from  the  beauty  of 


136 


ARISTOTLE 


physical  things,  which  are  always  particulars,  to  the 
beauty  of  spiritual  things,  which  are  always  uni- 
versals,  and  finally  to  the  beauty  of  the  Supreme 
Good,  which  is  The  Universal.  The  man  who  has 
reached  this  last,  and  who  sees  its  relation  to  all  other 
universals,  so  that  they  form  together  a  correlated 
whole,  sees  all  truth,  and  is  the  sage.  What  we  call 
Universals  Plato  called  “ideas”  (t8«u  =  forms  or  spe¬ 
cies).  These  ideas  he  regards  as  genera,  as  numbers, 
as  active  powers,  and  as  substances,  the  highest  of 
which  is  God. 

Two  things  are  especially  notable  in  connection  with 
this  theory :  (1)  that  it  involves  that  Oriental  ascetic 
view  of  life  which  makes  men  turn  away  from  the 
sensible  world,  and  seek  their  end  and  happiness  in 
the  colorless  world  of  thought;  (2)  that  it  suggests  a 
view  of  the  nature  of  God  which  conies  perilously  near 
to  Oriental  pantheism.  Plato,  indeed,  nowhere  denies 
personality  of  God ;  but  neither  does  he  affirm  it,  and 
he  certainly  leaves  the  impression  that  the  Supreme 
Being  is  a  force  acting  according  to  a  numerical  ratio 
or  law.  It  would  be  difficult  to  overestimate  the  in¬ 
fluence  of  these  two  views  upon  the  subsequent  course 
of  Greek  education  and  life.  The  former  suggested  to 
the  super-civic  man  a  sphere  of  activity  which  he  could 
flatter  himself  was  superior  to  the  civic,  viz.  a  sphere 
of  contemplation;  while  the  second,  by  blurring,  or 
rather  ignoring,  the  essential  elements  of  personality 
in  God,  viz.  consciousness,  choice,  and  will,  left  no 
place  for  a  truly  religious  or  moral  life.  This  explains 
why  Platonism,  while  it  has  inspired  no  great  civic 
movement,  has  played  such  a  determining  part  in 


PLATO 


137 


ecclesiasticism,  and  why,  nevertheless,  the  Church 
for  ages  was  compelled  to  fight  the  tendencies  of  it, 
which  it  did  in  great  measure  under  the  aegis  of  Plato’s 
stern  critic,  Aristotle. 

We  are  now  ready  to  take  up  our  second  question: 
How  can  the  sage  organize  human  life,  and  secure  a 
succession  of  sages  to  continue  his  work  after  him? 
Plato  has  given  two  widely  different  answers  to  this 
question,  in  his  two  most  extensive  works,  (1)  the 
Republic,  written  in  his  earlier  life,  when  he  was 
under  the  influence  of  Heraclitus,  Parmenides,  and 
Socrates,  and  stood  in  a  negative  attitude  toward  the 
real  world  of  history,  (2)  the  Laics ,  written  toward 
the  end  of  his  life,  when  he  became  reconciled,  in 
part  at  least,  to  the  real  world  and  its  traditional 
beliefs,  and  found  satisfaction  and  inspiration  in  the 
teachings  of  Pythagoras.  His  change  of  allegiance 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  in  the  Laws,  and  in  them 
alone,  Socra/tes  does  not  appear  as  a  character.  We 
shall  speak  first  of  the  Republic,  and  then  point  out 
wherein  the  Laws  differs  from  it. 

When  Plato  wrote  his  Republic,  he  was  deeply  im¬ 
pressed  with  the  evils  and  dangers  of  the  social  order 
in  which  he  lived.  This  impression,  which  was  that 
of  every  serious  man  of  the  time,  had  in  his  case  prob¬ 
ably  been  deepened  by  the  teaching  and  the  tragic 
death  of  Socrates.  The  dangers  were,  obviously,  the 
demoralization  of  Athenian  men  and  women,  and  the 
consequent  weakening  and  dissolution  of  the  social 
bonds.  The  evils,  as  he  saw  them,  were  (1)  the  de¬ 
fective  education  of  children,  (2)  the  neglect  of  women, 
(3)  the  general  disorganization  of  the  State  through 


138 


ARISTOTLE 


individualism,  which  placed  power  in  the  hands  of 
ignorance  and  rapacity,  instead  of  in  those  of  wisdom 
and  worth.  The  Republic  is  a  scheme  for  removing 
these  evils  and  averting  the  consequent  dangers.  It 
is  the  Platonic  sage’s  recipe  for  the  healing  of  society, 
and  it  is  but  fair  to  say  that,  of  all  the  Utopian  and 
aesthetic  schemes  ever  proposed  for  this  end,  it  is 
incomparably  the  best.  It  proposes  nothing  less  than 
the  complete  transformation  of  society,  without  offer¬ 
ing  any  hint  as  to  how  a  selfish  and  degraded  people 
is  to  be  induced  to  submit  thereto.  In  the  transformed 
society,  the  State  is  all  in  all;  the  family  is  abolished; 
women  are  emancipated  and  share  in  the  education  and 
duties  of  men;  the  State  attends  to  the  procreation 
and  education  of  children;  private  property  is  for¬ 
bidden.  The  State  is  but  the  individual  writ  large, 
and  the  individual  has  three  faculties,  in  the  proper 
development  and  coordination  of  which  consists  his 
well-being:  the  same,  therefore,  must  be  true  of  the 
State.  These  faculties  are  (1)  intellect  or  reason, 

( XoyujTiKov ,  \6yos,  vovs,  etc.),  (2)  spirit  or  courage  (#v/xd?, 
Ovpoe iSe»),  (3)  desire  or  appetite  ( l-mOvixia ,  hnOvpr^TiKov, 
<^iXoxpr}pa.Tov) .  The  first  resides  in  the  head,  the  sec¬ 
ond  in  the  heart,  the  third  in  the  abdomen.  The  first 
is  peculiar  to  man,  the  second  he  shares  with  the  ani¬ 
mals,  and  the  third  with  both  animals  and  plants. 
The  proper  relation  of  these  faculties  exists  when 
reason,  with  clear  insight,  rules  the  whole  man  (Pru¬ 
dence)  ;  when  spirit  takes  its  directions  from  reason 
in  its  attitude  toward  pleasure  and  pain  (Fortitude) ; 
when  spirit  and  appetite  together  come  to  an  under¬ 
standing  with  reason  as  to  when  the  one,  and  when 


PLATO 


139 


the  other,  shall  act  (Temperance) ;  and,  finally,  when 
each  of  the  three  strictly  confines  itself  to  its  proper 
function  (Justice).  Thus  we  obtain  the  four  “  cardinal 
virtues.”  As  existing  in  the  individual,  they  are  rela¬ 
tions  between  his  own  faculties.  It  is  only  in  the 
State  that  they  are  relations  between  the  individual 
and  his  fellows.  Rather  we  ought  to  say,  they  are 
relations  between  different  classes  of  society;  for 
society  is  divided  into  three  classes,  marked  by 
the  predominance  of  one  or  other  of  the  three  facul¬ 
ties  of  the  soul.  First,  there  is  the  intelligent  class, 

—  the  philosophers  or  sages;  second,  the  spirited  class, 

—  the  military  men  or  soldiers;  third,  the  covetous 
class,  —  men  devoted  to  industry,  trade,  and  money¬ 
making.  The  well-being  of  the  State,  as  of  the  indi¬ 
vidual,  is  secure  only  when  the  relations  between 
these  classes  are  the  four  cardinal  virtues ;  when  the 
sages  rule,  and  the  soldiers  and  money-makers  accept 
this  rule,  and  when  each  class  strictly  confines  itself 
to  its  own  function,  so,  for  example,  that  the  sages  do 
not  attempt  to  fight,  the  soldiers  to  make  money,  or 
the  money-makers  to  fight  or  rule.  In  the  Platonic 
ideal  State,  accordingly,  the  three  classes  dwell  apart 
and  have  distinct  functions.  All  the  power  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  philosophers,  who  dwell  in  lofty  isola¬ 
tion,  devoted  to  the  contemplation  of  divine  ideas, 
and  descending  only  through  grace  to  mingle  with 
human  affairs,  as  teachers  and  absolute  rulers,  ruling 
without  laws.  Their  will  is  enforced  by  the  military 
class,  composed  of  both  sexes,  which  lives  outside  the 
city,  devoting  itself  to  physical  exercises  and  the  de¬ 
fence  of  the  State.  These  two  classes  together  con- 


140 


ARISTOTLE 


stitute  the  guardians  (<£vAa kcs)  of  the  State,  and  stand 
to  each  other  in  the  relation  of  head  and  hand.  They 
produce  nothing,  own  nothing,  live  sparingly,  and, 
indeed,  cherish  a  sovereign  contempt  for  all  producing 
and  owning,  as  well  as  for  those  who  produce  and  own. 
They  find  their  satisfaction  in  the  performance  of  their 
functions,  and  the  maintenance  of  virtue  in  the  State. 
What  small  amount  of  material  good  they  require  is 
supplied  to  them  by  the  industrial  class,  which  they 
protect  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  only  good  it  strives 
after  or  can  appreciate,  the  good  of  the  appetites. 
This  class,  of  course,  has  no  power,  either  directive 
or  executive,  being  incapable  of  any.  It  is,  never¬ 
theless,  entirely  happy  in  its  condition  of  tutelage, 
and,  as  far  as  virtue  can  be  predicated  of  sensuality, 
virtuous,  the  excesses  of  sensuality  being  repressed  by 
the  other  two  classes.  Indeed,  the  great  merit  which 
Plato  claims  for  his  scheme  is,  that  it  secures  harmony, 
and  therefore  happiness,  for  all,  by  placing  every  indi¬ 
vidual  citizen  in  the  class  to  which  by  nature  he  be¬ 
longs,  that  is,  in  which  his  nature  can  find  the  fullest 
and  freest  expression  compatible  with  the  well-being 
of  the  whole.  Such  is  Plato’s  political  scheme,  marked 
by  the  two  notorious  Greek  characteristics,  love  of 
harmony  and  contempt  for  labor.  It  is  curious  to 
think  that  it  foreshadowed  three  modern  institutions 
—  the  ecclesiastical  hierarchy,  the  standing  army,  and 
the  industrial  community,  in  which,  however,  the 
relations  of  power  demanded  by  Plato  are  almost 
reversed,  with  (it  is  only  fair  to  say)  the  result 
which  he  foresaw. 

In  trying  to  answer  the  question,  By  what  means 


PLATO 


141 


shall  these  classes  be  sundered?  Plato  calmly  assumes 
that  his  scheme  is  already  in  full  operation  among 
grown  people,  so  that  the  only  difficulty  remaining  is 
with  regard  to  the  children.  And  this  is  completely 
met  by  his  scheme  of  education.  The  State  or,  let  us 
say  at  once,  the  philosophic  class,  having  abolished 
the  family,  and  assumed  its  functions,  determines 
what  number  and  kind  of  children  it  requires  at  any 
given  time,  and  provides  for  them  as  it  would  for 
sheep  or  kine.  It  brings  together  at  festivals  the 
vigorous  males  and  females,  and  allows  them  to  choose 
their  mates  for  the  occasion.  As  soon  as  the  children 
are  born,  they  are  removed  from  their  mothers  and 
taken  charge  of  in  State  institutions,  where  the  feeble 
and  deformed  are  at  once  destroyed.  Any  children 
begotten  without  the  authority  of  the  State  share  the 
same  fate,  either  before  or  after  birth.  Those  whose 
birth  is  authorized,  and  who  prove  vigorous,  are 
reared  by  the  State,  none  of  them  knowing,  or  being 
known  by,  their  parents.  But  they  by  no  means  suffer 
any  diminution  of  parentage  on  that  account;  for 
every  mature  man  regards  himself  as  the  father,  and 
every  mature  woman  regards  herself  as  the  mother,  of 
all  the  children  born  within  a  certain  time,  so  that 
every  child  has  thousands  of  fathers  and  mothers,  all 
interested  in  his  welfare;  and  the  mothers,  being 
relieved  from  nearly  all  the  duties  of  maternity,  share 
equally  with  the  men  in  all  the  functions  of  the  State. 

The  system  of  education  to  which  the  children  of 
the  State  are  subjected  is,  to  a  large  extent,  modelled 
after  that  of  Sparta,  especially  in  respect  to  its  rigor 
and  its  absolutely  political  character.  It  contains, 


142 


ARISTOTLE 


however,  a  strong  Tonic  or  Athenian  element,  nota¬ 
bly  on  the  intellectual  and  aesthetic  side.  It  may 
fairly  claim  to  be  intensely  Hellenic.  It  accepts  the 
time-honored  division  of  education  into  Music  and 
Gymnastics,  making  no  distinct  place  for  Letters,  but 
including  them  under  Music.  It  demands  that  these 
two  branches  shall  be  pursued  as  parts  of  a  whole, 
calculated  to  develop,  as  far  as  may  be,  the  harmo¬ 
nious  human  being,  and  tit  him  to  become  part  of  the 
harmonious  State.  I  have  said  “as  far  as  may  be,” 
because  Plato  believes  that  only  a  small  number  of 
persons  at  any  given  time  can  be  reduced  to  complete 
harmony.  These  are  the  born  philosophers,  who,  when 
tlieii  nature  is  fully  realized,  no  longer  require  the 
State,  but  stand,  as  gods,  above  it.  In  truth,  the  State 
is  needed  just  because  the  mass  of  mankind  cannot 
attain  inner  harmony,  but  would  perish,  were  it  not 
for  the  outer  harmony  imposed  by  the  philosophers. 
This  is  a  sad  fact,  and  would  be  altogether  dishearten¬ 
ing,  were  it  not  for  the  belief,  which  Plato  seems  to 
have  derived  from  Pythagoras  and  the  Egyptians,  that 
those  human  beings  who  fail  to  attain  harmony  in  one 
life,  will  have  opportunities  to  do  so  in  other  lives,  so 
long  as  they  do  not,  by  some  awful  and  malignant 
ciime  or  crimes,  show  that  they  are  utterly  incapable 
of  harmony.  Plato’s  scheme  of  political  education, 
therefore,  requires,  as  its  complement,  the  doctrines 
of  individual  immortality,  of  probation  continued 
through  as  many  lives  as  may  be  necessary,  and  of 
the  possibility  of  final  and  eternal  blessedness  or 
misery.  In  fact,  Plato  has  a  fully-developed  escha- 
tology ,  with  an  “  other  world,  ”  consisting  of  three  well- 


PLATO 


143 


defined  parts, —  Elysium,  Acheron,  and  Tartarus, — 
corresponding  to  the  Paradise,  Purgatory,  and  Hell  of 
Catholic  Christianity;  with  one  important  difference, 
however,  due  to  the  doctrine  of  metempsychosis. 
While  the  Christian  purgatory  is  a  place  or  state  of 
purgation  for  souls  whose  probation  is  over  forever, 
Acheron  is  merely  a  place  where  imperfect  souls 
remain  till  the  end  of  a  world-period,  or  seon,  of  ten 
thousand  years,  wrhen  they  are  again  allowed  to 
return  to  life  and  renew  their  struggle  for  that  com¬ 
plete  harmony  which  is  the  condition  of  admission  to 
the  society  of  the  gods. 

It  is  from  this  eschatology  that  Plato  derives  the 
moral  sanctions  which  he  employs  in  his  State.  It 
is  true  that  no  one  has  insisted  with  greater  force 
than  he  upon  the  truth  that  virtue  is,  in  and  for  itself, 
the  highest  human  good;  he  believed,  however,  that 
this  could  be  appreciated  only  by  the  philosopher, 
who  had  experience  of  it,  and  that  for  the  lower 
orders  of  men  a  more  powerful,  though  less  noble, 
sanction  was  necessary.  Accordingly,  he  depicts  the 
joys  of  Elysium  in  images  that  could  not  but  appeal 
to  the  Hellenic  imagination,  and  paints  Tartarus  in 
gruesome  colors  that  would  do  honor  to  a  St.  Ignatius. 

In  order  fully  to  understand  the  method  of  Plato’s 
political  education,  we  must  revert  to  Chapter  III  of 
Book  I.  There  we  saw  that,  according  to  the  Greeks, 
a  complete  education  demanded  three  things,  (1)  a 
noble  nature,  (2)  training  through  habit,  (3)  instruc¬ 
tion.  For  the  first  Plato  would  do  what  can  be  done  by 
artificial  selection  of  parents;  for  the  second,  he  would 
depend  upon  music  and  gymnastics;  for  the  third, 


144 


ARISTOTLE 


upon  philosophy.  In  these  last  two  divisions  we 
have  the  root  of  the  mediaeval  trivium  and  quadrivium. 
The  Platonic  pedagogical  system  seeks  to  separate 
the  ignoble  from  the  noble  natures,  and  to  place  the 
former  in  the  lowest  class.  It  then  trains  the  noble 
natures  in  music  and  gymnastics,  and,  while  this  is 
going  on,  it  tries  to  distinguish  those  natures  which 
are  capable  of  rising  above  mere  training  to  reflective 
or  philosophic  thought,  from  those  which  are  not. 
The  latter  it  assigns  to  the  military  class,  which  al¬ 
ways  remains  at  the  stage  of  training,  while  the 
former  are  instructed  in  philosophy,  and,  if  they 
prove  themselves  adepts,  are  finally  admitted  to  the 
ruling  class,  as  sages.  Any  member  of  either  of  the 
higher  classes  who  proves  himself  unworthy  of  that 

class,  may  at  any  time  be  degraded  into  the  next 
below. 

As  soon  as  the  children  are  accepted  by  the  State, 
their  education  under  State  nurses  begins.  The  chief 
efforts  of  these  for  some  time  are  directed  to  the  bodies 
of  the  children,  to  seeing  that  they  are  healthy  and 
strong.  As  soon  as  the  young  creatures  can  stand 
and  walk,  they  are  taught  to  exert  themselves  in  an 
orderly  way  and  to  play  little  games;  and  as  soon  as 
they  understand  what  is  said  to  them,  they  are  told 
stories  and  sung  to.  Such  is  their  first  introduction 
to  gymnastics  and  music.  What  games  are  to  be 
taught,  what  stories  told,  and  what  airs  sung  to  the 
children,  the  State  determines,  and  indeed,  since  the 
character  of  human  beings  depends,  in  great  measure, 
upon  the  first  impression  made  upon  them,  this  is  one 
of  its  most  sacred  duties.  Plato  altogether  disap- 


PLATO 


145 


proves  of  leaving  children  without  guidance  to  seek 
exercise  and  amusement  in  their  own  way,  and 
demands  that  their  games  shall  be  such  as  call  forth, 
in  a  gentle  and  harmonious  way,  all  the  latent  powers 
of  body  and  mind,  and  develop  the  sense  of  order, 
beauty,  and  fitness.  He  is  still  more  earnest  in 
insisting  that  the  stories  told  to  children  shall  be 
exemplifications  of  the  loftiest  morality,  and  the  airs 
sung  to  them  such  as  settle,  strengthen,  and  solemnize 
the  soul.  He  follows  Heraclitus  in  demanding  that 
the  Homeric  poems,  so  long  the  storehouse  for 
children’s  stories,  shall  be  entirely  proscribed,  on 
account  of  the  false  ideals  which  they  hold  up  both 
of  gods  and  heroes,  and  the  intimidating  descriptions 
which  they  give  of  the  other  world.  Virtue,  he  holds, 
cannot  be  furthered  by  fear,  which  is  characteristic 
only  of  slaves.  He  thinks  that  all  early  intellectual 
training  should  be  a  sort  of  play.  The  truth  is,  the 
infant-school  of  Plato’s  Republic  comes  as  near  as  can 
well  be  imagined  to  the  ideal  of  the  modern  kinder¬ 
garten. 

While  this  elementary  education  is  going  on,  the 
officers  of  the  State  have  abundant  opportunity  for 
observing  the  different  characters  of  the  children,  and 
distinguishing  the  noble  from  the  ignoble.  As  soon 
as  a  child  shows  plainly  that  it  belongs  by  nature  to 
the  lowest  class,  they  consign  it  to  that  class,  and  its 
education  by  the  State  practically  ceases.  Of  course 
these  officers  know  from  what  class  each  child  came, 
and  they  make  use  of  this  knowledge  in  determining 
its  future  destiny.  At  the  same  time,  they  are  not 
to  be  entirely  guided  by  it,  but  to  act  impartially. 


146 


ARISTOTLE 


The  education  of  the  lowest  class  after  childhood  the 
State  leaves  to  take  care  of  itself,  persuaded  that 
appetite  will  always  find  means  for  its  own  satisfac¬ 
tion.  The  nobler  natures  it  continues  to  educate, 
without  any  break,  until  they  reach  the  age  of  twenty. 
And  this  education  is  distinctly  a  military  training. 
As  time  goes  on,  the  gymnastic  exercises  become  more 
violent,  more  complex,  and  more  sustained,  but  al¬ 
ways  have  for  their  subject  the  soul,  rather  than  the 
body,  and  never  degenerate  into  mere  athletic  brutal¬ 
ity.  Special  attention  is  directed  to  the  musical  and 
liteiaiy  exercises,  as  the  means  whereby  the  soul  is 
directly  trained  and  harmonized.  Plato  holds  that 
no  change  can  be  made  in  the  u  music  ”  of  a  State, 
without  a  corresponding  change  in  the  whole  organi¬ 
zation;  in  other  words,  that  the  social  and  political 
condition  of  a  people  is  determined  by  the  literature 
and  music  which  it  produces  and  enjoys.  He  virtu- 
ally  says,  Let  me  make  the  songs  of  a  people,  and 
he  who  will  may  make  their  laws.  Of  the  character 
of  the  music  which  he  recommends  we  have  already 
spoken.  From  literature  he  would  exclude  all  that 
we  are  in  the  habit  of  calling  by  that  name,  all  that 
is  mimetic,  poetic,  or  creative,  and  confine  the  term  to 
what  is  scientific,  didactic,  and  edifying.  He  sends  the 
poets  out  of  the  State  with  mock-reverent  politeness, 
as  creatures  too  divine  for  human  use.  He  is  par¬ 
ticularly  severe  upon  the  dramatists,  not  sparing  even 
the  sublime  vEschylus.  In  fact,  he  would  banish  from 
his  State  all  art  not  directly  edifying.  The  literature 
which  he  recommends  is  plainly  of  the  nature  of 
^sop’s  Fables ,  the  Pythagorean  Golden  Words,  and 


PLATO 


147 


the  Parmenidean  or  Heraclitean  work  On  Nature.  If 
we  wished  to  express  his  intent  in  strictly  modern 
language,  we  should  have  to  say  that  he  desired  to 
replace  literary  training  by  ethical  and  scientific,  and 
the  poetical  mode  of  presenting  ideals  by  the  prosaic. 
The  true  music,  he  held,  is  in  the  human  being.  “If 
we  find,”  he  says,  “a  man  who  perfectly  combines 
gymnastics  with  music,  and  in  exact  proportion 
applies  them  to  the  soul,  we  shall  be  entirely  justi¬ 
fied  in  calling  him  the  perfect  musician  and  the 
perfect  trainer,  far  superior  to  the  man  who  arranges 
strings  alongside  each  other.” 

There  are  many  matters  of  detail  in  Plato’s  scheme 
of  military  training  that  well  deserve  consideration, 
but  cannot  be  even  touched  upon  here.  Before  we 
leave  it,  however,  we  may  give  the  dates  at  which  the 
different  branches  of  education  are  to  begin.  Care 
of  the  body  begins  at  birth,  story-telling  with  the 
third  year,  gymnastics  with  the  seventh,  writing  and 
reading  with  the  tenth,  letters  and  music  with  the 
fourteenth,  mathematics  with  the  sixteenth,  military 
drill,  which  for  the  time  supplants  all  other  training, 
with  the  eighteenth.  When  the  young  people  reach 
the  age  of  twenty,  those  who  show  no  great  capacity 
for  science,  but  are  manly  and  courageous,  are  assigned 
to  the  soldier  class,  and  start  on  a  course  of  higher 
education  in  military  training,  while  those  who  evince 
great  intellectual  ability  become  novices  in  the  ruling 
class,  and  begin  a  curriculum  in  science,  which  lasts 
till  the  close  of  their  thirtieth  year.  This  course 
includes  arithmetic,  geometry,  and  astronomy,  the 
only  sciences  at  that  time  cultivated,  and  aims  at 


148 


ARISTOTLE 


impressing  upon  tlie  youthful  mind  the  unity  and 
harmony  of  the  physical  or  phenomenal  universe.  At 
the  age  of  thirty ,  those  students  who  do  not  show  any 
particular  aptitude  for  higher  studies  are  drafted  off 
into  the  lower  public  offices,  while  those  who  do, 
pass  five  years  in  the  study  of  dialectics,  whereby 
they  rise  to  pure  ideas.  They  are  then,  from  their 
thirty-fifth  to  their  fiftieth  year,  made  to  fill  the 
higher  public  offices,  in  which  they  take  their  orders 
directly  from  the  sages.  During  this  period  they  put 
their  acquirements  to  a  practical  test,  and  so  come 
really  and  fully  into  possession  of  them.  At  the  end 
of  their  fiftieth  year,  after  half  a  century  of  contin¬ 
uous  education  of  body,  mind,  and  will,  they  are 
reckoned  to  have  reached  the  vision  of  the  supreme 
good,  and  therefore  to  be  fit  to  enter  the  contemplative 
ruling  class.  They  are  now  free  men;  they  have 
reached  the  goal  of  existence;  their  life  is  hidden 
with  God;  they  are  free  from  the  prison  of  the  body, 
and  only  remain  in  it  voluntarily,  and  out  of ‘gratitude 
to  the  State  which  has  educated  them,  in  order  to 
direct  it,  in  accordance  with  absolute  truth  and  right, 
toward  the  Supreme  Good. 

Such,  in  its  outlines,  is  Plato’s  theory  of  education, 
as  set  forth  in  the  Republic.  It  is  easy  to  point  out 
its  defects  and  its  errors,  which  are  neither  small  nor 
few,  but  fundamental  and  all-pervasive.  But  it  is 
equally  easy  to  see  how  it  came  to  have  these  defects 
and  errors,  since  they  are  simply  those  of  every 
aesthetic  social  scheme  which  ignores  the  nature  of 
the  material  with  which  it  presumes  to  deal,  and 
takes  no  account  of  the  actual  history  of  social  insti- 


PLATO 


149 


tutions  or  of  the  forces  by  which  they  are  evolved. 
It  is  emphatically  the  product  of  a  youthful  intellect, 
carried  away  by  an  artistic  ideal.  It  was,  however, 
the  intellect  of  a  Plato,  who,  when  he  became  more 
mature,  saw,  without  “  irreverence  for  the  dreams  of 
youth,  ”  the  feebleness  of  ideas  for  the  conflict  with 
human  frailties,  and  strove  to  correct  his  exaggerated 
estimate  of  their  power. 

This  he  did  in  the  Laws,  whose  very  title  suggests, 
in  a  way  almost  obtrusive,  the  change  of  attitude  and 
allegiance.  While  in  the  Republic  the  State  is  gov¬ 
erned  by  sages,  almost  entirely  without  laws,  in  the 
later  work,  the  sages  almost  disappear  and  the  laws 
assume  an  all-important  place.  In  writing  the  Laics, 
moreover,  he  exchanges  allegiance  to  Socrates  and 
ideas  for  allegiance  to  Pythagoras  and  the  gods.  In 
saying  this,  I  have  marked  the  fundamental  differ¬ 
ence  between  the  Republic  and  the  Laws.  While  in 
the  former  Plato  finds  the  moral  sanctions,  in  the  last 
resort,  in  the  ideas  of  the  pure  intellect,  trained  in 
mathematics,  astronomy,  and  dialectics,  in  the  latter 
he  derives  them  from  the  content  of  the  popular 
consciousness,  with  its  gods,  its  ethical  notions,  its 
traditions.  In  these,  as  embodied  in  institutions,  he 
finds  the  most  serviceable,  if  not  the  most  exalted, 
revelation  of  divine  truth.  Trusting  to  this,  he  no 
longer  seeks  to  abolish  the  family  and  private  prop¬ 
erty,  but  merely  to  have  them  regulated;  he  no  longer 
banishes  strangers  and  poets  from  his  State,  but 
merely  subjects  them  to  State  supervision;  he  no 
longer  demands  a  philosophical  training  for  the  rulers, 
but  only  practical  insight;  he  no  longer  divides  his 


150 


ARISTOTLE 


citizens  into  sages,  soldiers,  and  wealth-producers, 
but  into  freemen  (corresponding  to  liis  previous  mili¬ 
tary  class)  and  slaves.  His  government  is  no  longer 
an  aristocracy  of  intellect,  but  a  compound  of  aristoc- 
racy,  oligarchy,  and  democracy,  representing,  respec¬ 
tively,  worth,  wealth,  and  will.  His  plan  of  education 
is  modified  to  suit  these  altered  conditions.  The 
children,  as  in  Sparta,  do  not  begin  the  State  course  of 
education  until  about  their  seventh  year,  after  which 
their  training  is  very  much  the  same  as  that  demanded 
in  the  Republic,  with  the  omission,  of  course,  of  dia¬ 
lectics.  Though  women  are  no  longer  to  be  relieved 
of  their  home  duties,  they  are  still  to  share  in  the 
education  and  occupations  of  men,  an  arrangement 
which  is  facilitated  by  the  law  ordaining  that  both 
men  and  women  shall  eat  at  public  tables.  In  mak¬ 
ing  these  changes,  Plato  believed  that  he  was  falling 
from  a  lofty,  but  unrealizable,  ideal,  and  making  con¬ 
cessions  to  human  weakness  ;  in  reality,  he  was 
approaching  truth  and  right. 


Book  III 

ARISTOTLE  (b.c.  384-322) 


CHAPTER  I 


ARISTOTLE  — LIFE  AND  WORKS 

Aristotle,  in  my  opinion,  stands  almost  alone  in  philosophy. 
Cicero. 

Aristotle,  Nature’s  private  secretary,  dipping  his  pen  in  intellect. 
—  Eusebius. 

Wherever  the  divine  wisdom  of  Aristotle  has  opened  its  mouth, 
the  wisdom  of  others,  it  seems  to  me,  is  to  he  disregarded.  —  Dante. 

I  could  soon  get  over  Aristotle’s  prestige,  if  I  could  only  get  over 
his  reasons.  —  Lessing. 

If,  now  in  my  quiet  days,  I  had  youthful  faculties  at  my  com¬ 
mand,  I  should  devote  myself  to  Greek,  in  spite  of  all  the  difficulties 
I  know.  Nature  and  Aristotle  should  he  my  sole  study.  It  is  be¬ 
yond  all  conception  what  that  man  espied,  saw,  beheld,  remarked, 
observed.  To  be  sure  he  was  sometimes  hasty  in  his  explanations ; 
but  are  we  not  so,  even  to  the  present  day  ?  —  Goethe  (at  78) . 

If  the  proper  earnestness  prevailed  in  philosophy,  nothing  would 
be  more  worthy  of  establishing  than  a  foundation  for  a  special  lect¬ 
ureship  on  Aristotle ;  for  he  is,  of  all  the  ancients,  the  most  worthy 
of  study.  — Hegel. 

Aristotle  was  one  of  the  richest  and  most  comprehensive  geniuses 
that  ever  appeared  — a  man  beside  whom  no  age  has  an  equal  to 

place.  —  Id. 

Physical  philosophy  occupies  itself  with  the  general  qualities  of 
matter.  It  is  an  abstraction  from  the  dynamic  manifestations  of 
the  different  kinds  of  matter ;  and  even  where  its  foundations  were 
first  laid,  in  the  eight  books  of  Aristotle’s  Physical  Lectures,  all  the 
phenomena  of  nature  are  represented  as  the  motive  vital  activity  of 
a  universal  world-force.  — Alexander  von  Humboldt. 

153 


154 


ARISTOTLE 


It  was  characteristic  of  this  extraordinary  genius  to  work  at  both 
ends  of  the  scientific  process.  He  was  alike  a  devotee  to  facts  and 
a  master  of  the  highest  abstractions.  —  Alexander  Bain. 

Aristotle  is  the  Father  of  the  Inductive  Method,  and  he  is  so  for 
two  reasons:  First,  he  theoretically  recognized  its  essential  prin¬ 
ciples  with  a  clearness,  and  exhibited  them  with  a  conviction,  which 
strike  the  modern  man  with  amazement;  and  then  he  made  the 
first  comprehensive  attempt  to  apply  them  to  all  the  science  of 
the  Greeks.  —  Wilhelm  Oncken. 

Aristotle,  for  whose  political  philosophy  our  admiration  rises, 
the  more  we  consider  the  work  of  his  successors,  is  less  guided  by 
imagination  than  Plato,  examines  reality  more  carefully,  and  recog¬ 
nizes  more  acutely,  the  needs  of  man.  —  Bluntsciili. 

It  appears  to  me  that  there  can  be  no  question,  that  Aristotle 
stands  forth,  not  only  as  the  greatest  figure  in  antiquity,  but  as  the 
greatest  intellect  that  has  ever  appeared  upon  the  face  of  this  earth. 
—  George  J.  Romanes. 

Aristotle,  with  all  the  wisdom  of  Plato  before  him,  which  he  was 
well  able  to  appropriate,  could  find  no  better  definition  of  the  true 
good  of  man  than  the  full  exercise  or  realization  of  the  soul’s  facul¬ 
ties  in  accordance  with  its  proper  excellence,  which  was  excellence 
of  thought,  speculative  and  practical. —Thomas  Hill  Green. 

It  is  pretty  definitely  settled,  among  men  competent 
to  form  a  judgment,  that  Aristotle  was  the  best  edu¬ 
cated  man  that  ever  walked  on  the  surface  of  this 
earth.  He  is  still,  as  he  was  in  Dante’s  time,  the 
u master  of  those  that  know.”  It  is,  therefore,  not 
without  reason  that  we  look  to  him,  not  only  as  the 
best  exponent  of  ancient  education,  but  as  one  of  the 
worthiest  guides  and  ensamples  in  education  gener- 
ally.  That  we  may  not  lose  the  advantage  of  his 
example,  it  will  be  well,  before  we  consider  his 
educational  theories,  to  cast  a  glance  at  his  life,  the 
process  of  his  development,  and  his  work. 


LIFE  AND  WORKS 


155 


Aristotle  was  born  about  b.c.  384,  in  the  Greek 
colony  of  Stagira  in  Thrace,  near  the  borders  of  Mace¬ 
donia.  His  father,  Nieomachus,  was  a  physician  of 
good  standing,  the  author  of  several  medical  works, 
and  the  trusted  friend  of  Amyntas,  the  Macedonian 
King.  His  mother,  Phsestis,  was  descended  from  the 
early  settlers  of  the  place.  It  was  doubtless  under 
his  father’s  guidance  that  the  boy  Aristotle  first 
became  interested  in  those  physical  studies  in  which 
he  was  destined  to  do  such  wonderful  work.  Losing, 
however,  both  his  parents  at  an  early  age,  he  came 
under  the  charge  of  Proxenus,  of  Atarneus,  who 
appears  to  have  done  his  duty  by  him.  At  the  age 
of  eighteen  he  came  to  Athens  for  his  higher  educa¬ 
tion,  and  entered  the  school  of  Plato  in  the  Academy. 
Here  he  remained  for  nearly  twenty  years,  listening 
to  Plato,  and  acquiring  those  vast  stores  of  informa¬ 
tion  which  in  later  life  he  worked  up  into  lectures 
and  scientific  treatises.  Nothing  escaped  him,  neither 
art,  science,  religion,  philosophy,  nor  politics.  He 
seems,  being  well  off,  to  have  begun  early  to  collect 
a  library,  and  to  aim  at  encyclopsedic  knowledge. 
About  his  methods  of  study  we  know  very  little;  but 
we  hear  that  at  times  he  assisted  Plato  in  his  work 
and  was  very  careful  of  his  own  attire.  It  is  clear 
that,  in  course  of  time,  he  rose  in  thought  above  the 
teachings  of  his  master,  and  even  rejected  the  most 
fundamental  of  them,  the  doctrine  of  self -existent 
ideas.  But  he  never  lost  respect  for  that  master,  and 
when  the  latter  died,  he  retired  with  Xenocrates,  son 
of  the  new  head  of  the  Academy,  to  Atarneus,  the 
home  of  his  old  guardian  Proxenus,  and  of  his  fellow- 


156 


ARISTOTLE 


Academic,  Hermias,  now  king  or  tyrant  of  the  place. 
Here  he  remained  for  three  years,  in  the  closest 
intimacy  with  his  friend,  until  the  latter  was  treach¬ 
erously  murdered  by  the  Persians.  He  then  crossed 
over  to  Mytilene,  taking  with  him  Pythias,  Hermias’ 
sister  or  niece,  whom  he  had  married,  and  to  whom 
he  was  deeply  devoted.  He  erected  in  Delphi  a  statue 
to  his  dead  friend,  and  dedicated  to  him  a  poem,  of 
which  we  shall  hear  more  in  the  sequel.  About  b.c. 
343,  when  he  was  over  forty  years  old,  he  was  called 
to  Macedonia,  as  tutor  to  Alexander,  the  tliirteen- 
year-old  son  of  King  Philip,  and  grandson  of  his  own 
father’s  old  patron,  Amyntas.  This  office  he  filled 
for  about  three  years  with  distinguished  success,  and 
it  may  be  safely  said  that  never  had  so  great  a  tutor 
so  great  a  pupil.  During  the  latter  part  of  the  time, 
at  least,  Aristotle  and  Alexander  seem  to  have  lived  at 
Stagira.  This  town  had  been  captured  and  destroyed 
by  Philip,  and  its  inhabitants  scattered.  With  the 
permission  of  the  conqueror,  Aristotle  reassembled 
the  inhabitants,  rebuilt  the  town,  drew  up  its  laws, 
and  laid  out  near  it,  at  Mieza,  in  imitation  of  the 
Academy,  a  gymnasium  and  park,  which  he  called  the 
Nymph  CEum.  Hither  he  appears  to  have  retired  with 
his  royal  pupil  and  several  other  youths  who  were 
receiving  education  along  with  him,  among  them 
Theophrastus  and  the- ill-fated  Callisthenes.  It  was 
probably  here  that  Aristotle  adopted  the  habit  of 
walking  while  imparting  instruction,  a  habit  which 
afterwards  gave  the  name  to  his  school.  When  Alex¬ 
ander,  at  sixteen,  entered  his  father’s  army,  Aristotle 
still  continued  to  teach  in  the  Nymphseum,  which 


LIFE  AND  WORKS 


157 


existed  even  in  Plutarch’s  time,  more  than  four  hun¬ 
dred  years  afterwards.  But  this  lasted  only  for  about 
five  years;  for  in  335,  when  Alexander,  who  in  the 
previous  year  had  succeeded  his  murdered  father,  was 
preparing  to  invade  Persia,  Aristotle  moved  to  Athens. 
Finding  that  his  old  friend,  Xenocrates,  was  director 
of  the  school  in  the  Academy,  he  established  him¬ 
self,  as  a  public  teacher  or  professor,  in  the  Lyceum, 
the  Periclean  gymnasium,  used  chiefly,  it  should 
seem,  by  the  lower  classes  and  by  foreign  residents, 
of  whom  he  himself  was  one.  As  an  alien,  as  the 
friend  of  the  victorious  Macedonians,  who  three  years 
before  had  broken  the  power  of  Greece  at  Chseronea, 
and  taken  away  her  autonomy  forever,  as  a  rival  of 
the  Platonists,  and  as  a  wealthy,  well-dressed  gentle¬ 
man,  he  had  many  enemies  and  detractors;  but  his 
conduct  seems  to  have  been  so  unobjectionable  that 
no  formal  charge  could  be  brought  against  him.  His 
very  numerous  pupils  were  mostly  foreigners,  a  fact 
not  without  its  influence  on  the  subsequent  course  of 
thought.  He  divided  his  days  between  writing  and 
teaching,  taking  his  physical  exercise  while  engaged 
in  the  latter  occupation.  In  the  mornings  he  gave 
lectures  to  a  narrow  circle,  in  a  strictly  formal  and 
scientific  way,  upon  the  higher  branches  of  science; 
while  in  the  afternoons  he  conducted  conversations 
upon  more  popular  themes  with  a  less  select  audience. 
The  former  were  called  his  esoteric,  the  latter  his 
exoteric,  discourses. 

It  was  during  his  second  residence  in  Athens,  in 
the  twelve  years  from  b.c.  335  to  323,  that  Aristotle 
composed  most  of  those  great  works  in  which  he 


158 


A1UST0TLE 


sought  to  sum  up,  in  an  encyclopaedic  way,  the  results 
of  a  life  of  all-embracing  study  and  thought.  He  had 
been  in  no  haste  to  put  himself  on  record,  and  it  was 
not  until  he  had  reached  a  consistent  view  of  the 
world  that  he  ventured  to  treat,  in  a  definitive  way, 
any  aspect  of  it.  Thus  it  was  that  each  of  his  treat¬ 
ises  formed  part  of  one  great  whole  of  thought.  Had 
he  succeeded  in  completing  his  plan,  he  would  have 
left  to  the  world  a  body  of  science  such  as,  even  in 
our  own  day,  would  look  in  vain  for  a  peer  among  the 
works  of  any  one  man.  Unfortunately,  his  plan  was 
not  completed,  and  even  of  the  works  which  he  did 
write  only  a  portion  has  come  down  to  us.  But 
that  portion  is  sufficient  to  place  their  author  at  the 
head  of  all  scientific  men.  Some  of  his  works,  for 
example,  his  Logic ,  Metaphysics,  Ethics,  and  Politics, 
still  occupy  the  first  place  in  the  literature  of  these 
subjects.  How  a  single  man  could  have  done  all  that 
he  did,  and  in  so  many  different  departments,  is  almost 
inconceivable.  No  doubt  he  had  helpers,  in  the  shape 
of  secretaries,  learned  slaves,  and  disciples;  and  it  is 
certain  that  he  received  from  his  royal  pupil  munifi¬ 
cent  aid,  which  enabled  him  to  do  much,  especially 
in  the  directions  of  physical  and  political  research, 
that  would  have  been  impossible  for  a  poor  man ;  but, 
after  all  allowances  have  been  made,  his  achievement 
still  seems  almost  miraculous. 

During  all  the  years  in  which  Aristotle  was  thus 
engaged,  his  position  at  Athens  was  becoming  more 
and  more-  insecure.  The  anti-Macedonian  party  were 
waiting  for  the  first  opportunity  to  rid  the  city  of 
him,  and  were  prevented  from  open  attempts  at  this 


LIFE  AND  WORKS 


159 


only  by  dread  of  Alexander’s  displeasure.  Even 
when  it  was  known  that  Aristotle  had  incurred  dis¬ 
favor  with  his  old  pupil,  they  did  not  venture  to 
attack  him;  but  in  323,  when  the  news  of  Alexander’s 
sudden  death  made  all  Greece  feel  that  now  the  time 
had  come  to  get  rid  forever  of  the  hated  Macedonians, 
and  recover  its  liberty,  they  at  once  gave  vent  to  their 
long-cherished  hatred.  How  hard  it  was  to  find  mat¬ 
ter  for  an  accusation  against  him,  is  shown  by  the  fact 
that  they  had  to  go  back  to  his  old  poem  on  Worth, 
written  in  memory  of  Hermias  (see  p.  4),  and  to 
base  thereon  a  charge  of  impiety  —  a  charge  always 
easily  made,  and  always  sure  to  arouse  strong  popular 
prejudice.  According  to  Athenian  law,  the  defendant 
in  any  such  case  might,  if  he  chose,  escape  punish¬ 
ment  by  leaving  the  city  any  time  before  the  trial; 
and  Aristotle,  not  being,  like  Socrates,  a  citizen, 
could  have  no  ground  for  refusing  to  take  advantage 
of  this  liberty.  Accordingly,  with  the  remark  that 
he  would  not  voluntarily  allow  the  Athenians  to  sin 
a  second  time  against  philosophy,  he  withdrew  to  his 
country  residence  at  Chalcis  in  Euboea,  the  old  home 
of  his  mother’s  family,  to  wait  till  affairs  should  take 
another  turn,  as,  indeed,  they  soon  afterwards  did, 
when  Athens  had  to  open  her  gates  to  Antipater. 
But,  ere  that  happened,  Aristotle  was  in  his  grave, 
having  died  in  322,  shortly  before  Demosthenes,  of 
disease  of  the  stomach,  from  which  he  had  long  suf¬ 
fered.  His  remains  are  said  to  have  been  carried  to 
Stagira,  where  the  grateful  inhabitants  erected  an  altar 
over  them  and  paid  divine  honors  to  his  memory. 
His  library  and  the  manuscripts  of  his  works  he  left 


160 


ARISTOTLE 


in  tlie  hands  of  Theophrastus,  who  succeeded  him  in 
the  Lyceum.  His  will,  the  text  of  which  has  come 
down  to  us,  bears  testimony,  along  with  all  else  that 
we  know  of  him,  to  the  nobility,  kindliness,  and  jus¬ 
tice  of  his  nature. 


CHAPTER  II 


ARISTOTLE’S  PHILOSOPHY 

Platon  revait ;  Aristote  pensait.  —  Alfred  de  Musset. 

Are  God  and  Nature  then  at  strife 
That  Nature  lends  such  evil  dreams? 

—  Tennyson. 

There  are  three  Essences.  Two  of  these  are  sensible ;  one  being 
eternal,  and  the  other  perishable.  The  latter  is  admitted  by  all,  in 
the  form,  for  example,  of  plants  and  animals;  in  regard  to  the 
former,  or  eternal  one,  we  shall  have  to  consider  its  elements,  and 
see  whether  they  be  one  or  many.  The  third  is  immutable  [and, 
therefore,  inaccessible  to  sense],  and  this  some  thinkers  hold  to  be 
transcendent.  — Aristotle. 

The  vision  of  the  divine  is  what  is  sweetest  and  best ;  and  if  God 
always  enjoys  that  vision  as  we  sometimes  do,  it  is  wonderful,  and 
if  he  does  so  in  a  yet  higher  degree,  it  is  more  wonderful  still.  And 
so  even  it  is.  And  life  belongs  to  him ;  for  the  self-determination 
of  thought  is  life,  and  he  is  self-determination.  And  his  absolute 
self-determination  is  the  supreme  and  eternal  life.  And  we  call 
God  a  living  being,  eternal,  best ;  so  that  life  and  duration,  uniform 
and  eternal,  belong  to  God ;  for  this  is  God.  — Id. 

We  must  consider  in  what  way  the  system  of  the  universe  con¬ 
tains  the  good  and  the  best,  whether  as  something  transcendent  aud 
self-determined,  or  as  order.  Surely  in  both  ways  at  once,  as  in  any 
army,  for  which  the  good  is  in  order,  and  is  the  general,  and  the 
latter  more  than  the  former.  For  the  general  is  not  due  to  the 
order,  but  the  order  to  the  general.  — Id. 

The  thought  of  Aristotle  differs  from  that  of  Plato 
both  in  its  method  and  in  its  results.  Plato,  reared 
in  the  school  of  Pythagoras,  Parmenides,  Heraclitus, 

161 


102 


ARISTOTLE 


and  Socrates,  had,  naturally  enough,  come  to  look  for 
truth  in  the  supersensual  region  of  mind,  and  thought 
he  found  it  in  ideas  attainable  by  a  process  of  dialectic 
within  the  individual  consciousness.  He  thus  came 
to  put  forward  a  doctrine  which,  despite  its  ostensible 
pui  pose  to  cement  the  bonds  of  society,  in  reality 
tended  to  withdraw  men  from  society  altogether  and 
increase  the  very  individualism  it  was  intended  to 
cure.  Aristotle,  while  still  in  Plato's  school,  had 
turned  away  from  this  doctrine,  and  in  after-life  he 
never  lost  an  opportunity  of  combating  it.  He  could 
point  to  Plato’s  Republic  as  a  warning  example  of  its 
logical  consequences.  But,  in  doing  this,  he  was  pre¬ 
pared  to  put  another  doctrine  in  its  place,  and  he  did 
so  on  the  basis  of  a  profound  study  of  the  whole  course 
of  Greek  thought,  mythological  and  philosophical. 

Instead  of  appealing,  like  Plato,  to  the  individual 
consciousness,  and  trying  to  discover  ultimate  truth 
by  bringing  its  data  into  harmony  among  themselves, 
Aiistotle  appeals  to  the  historic  consciousness,  and 
endeavors  to  find  truth  by  harmonizing  and  comple¬ 
menting  its  data  through  a  further  appeal  to  the  outer 
world,  in  which  these  data  are  realized.  He  main¬ 
tains  that  the  truths  reached  by  the  dialectic  process 
are  merely  formal,  and  therefore  empty,  —  useless  in 
practice,  until  they  have  been  filled  by  experience 
from  the  storehouse  of  nature.  In  consequence  of  this 
changed  attitude,  he  sets  aside  the  dialectic  process, 
ctnd  substitutes  for  it  the  Method  of  Induction ,  which 
he  was  the  first  man  in  the  world  to  comprehend,  ex¬ 
pound,  and  apply,  becoming  thus  the  father  of  all  true 
science.  And  he  makes  a  more  extensive  use  of  in- 


HIS  PHILOSOPHY 


163 


duction  than  any  other  man  since  his  time,  applying 
it  in  a  field  in  which  even  now  it  is  hardly  supposed 
to  yield  any  results,  the  field  of  the  common  con¬ 
sciousness.  Indeed,  he  everywhere  begins  his  search 
for  concrete  truth  by  examining  the  historic  conscious¬ 
ness,  and,  having,  by  a  process  of  induction,  discov¬ 
ered  and  generalized  its  contents,  he  turns  with  these 
to  nature  and,  by  a  second  induction,  corrects,  com¬ 
pletes,  and  harmonizes  them.  We  might  express  this 
in  modern  language,  by  saying  that  his  whole  endeavor 
is  to  correct  and  supplement  the  imperfect  human 
consciousness  by  a  continual  appeal  to  the  divine 
consciousness,  as  manifested  in  the  world.  It  is  the 
error  of  modern  investigators  that  they  employ  only 
one-half  of  the  inductive  method,  the  objective,  and 
either  omit  altogether  the  subjective,  or  else,  like 
Plato,  apply  it  only  to  the  individual  consciousness. 
Hence  come  the  widely  divergent  results  which  still 
meet  us  in  so  many  of  the  sciences,  in  Politics,  Psy¬ 
chology,  etc.,  hence  the  fact  that  a  great  deal  of 
science,  instead  of  correcting,  widening,  and  harmoniz¬ 
ing  the  common  consciousness,  stands  altogether  apart 
from  it,  or  even  in  direct  opposition  to  it.  The  man 
who  writes  a  treatise  on  Psychology,  or  on  the  Soul, 
without  troubling  himself  to  discover  what  “Soul” 
means  in  the  general  consciousness  of  mankind,  and 
perhaps  setting  out  with  an  altogether  individual 
notion  of  it,  can  hardly  look  for  any  other  result. 
Aristotle,  true  to  his  method  of  induction,  devotes 
one  entire  book  of  his  Psychology  to  finding  out  what 
“  Soul  ”  means  in  the  historic  consciousness,  unre- 
flective  as  well  as  reflective.  Then,  with  this  meaning, 


164 


ARISTOTLE 


he  goes  to  nature,  seeks  by  induction  to  discover  what 
she  has  to  say  about  it,  and  abides  by  her  reply. 
Hence  it  is  that  his  thought  has  laid  hold  upon  the 
world,  and  influenced  it  in  practical  ways,  as  no  other 
man’s  thought  has  ever  done.  Hence  it  is  that,  of  all 
ancient  men,  he  is  the  one  before  whom  the  modern 
scientist  bows  with  respect. 

If  we  now  ask  ourselves  what  was  the  underlying 
thought  that  shaped  Aristotle’s  theory  of  induction, 
what  was  his  Weltanschauung ,  we  shall  find  it  to  be 
this:  The  divine  intelligence  reveals  itself  subjec¬ 
tively  in  an  historic  process  in  the  human  conscious¬ 
ness,  and  objectively1  in  a  natural  process  in  the  outer 
world.  Truth  for  man  is  the  harmony  of  the  two 
revelations.  It  follows  directly  from  this  that  the 
scientist  must  take  impartial  account  of  both.  So,  for 
example,  if  he  finds  gods  in  the  historical  conscious¬ 
ness,  and  laws  or  forces  in  nature,  he  has  no  right,  like 
the  theologian,  to  merge  the  latter  in  the  former,  or, 
like  the  physicist,  to  replace  the  former  by  the  latter. 
He  must  retain  both  till  he  can  bring  them  into  har¬ 
mony.  Only  then  does  he  know  either. 

Such  a  philosophy  as  this,  instead  of  drawing  men 
away  from  the  world  of  nature  and  history,  and  con¬ 
fining  them  to  the  narrow  circle  of  their  own  conscious¬ 
ness,  of  necessity  sent  them  back  to  that  world,  as 
the  only  means  by  which  any  human  well-being  could 
be  reached.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  it  has  so  power¬ 
fully  affected  both  social  life  and  science.  Neverthe- 

1 1  am  here  using  the  terms  “objective”  and  “subjective”  in 
their  modern  acceptation,  which  almost  exactly  inverts  the  ancient 
usage.  See  Martineau,  Study  of  Religion,  vol.  i,  p.  385,  n.  2. 


HIS  PHILOSOPHY 


165 


less,  we  should  err  greatly,  if  we  supposed  that,  in 
Aristotle’s  view,  the  divine  is  nothing  more  than  an 
immanent  idea,  working  as  a  force-form  in  nature, 
and  as  a  thought-form  in  mind.  He  does,  indeed, 
believe  that  the  divine  is  all  this,  but  not  that  this  is 
all  the  divine  there  is.  Over  and  above  the  divine 
which  is  determined  in  nature  and  in  man,  there  is 
the  transcendent  Mind,  or  God,  determining  himself 
through  himself,  and  bearing  the  same  relation  to  the 
divine  that  the  sun  bears  to  light,  the  human  mind  to 
human  thought,  the  general  to  the  order  of  his  army. 
Here  we  are  far  away  from  Pantheism,  and,  though  we 
have  not  yet  risen  to  a  clear  conception  of  personality, 
we  have  at  the  “helm  of  the  universe ”  a  conscious 
being,  the  source  of  law  and  order.  And  man,  rising 
above  the  thought  whereby  he  knows  himself  through 
nature,  and  nature  through  himself,  may  enter  into 
the  consciousness  of  God  and  become  a  partaker  in 
that  life  which  is  “  sweetest  and  best.  ”  These  are  the 
features  of  Aristotle’s  thought  which  in  the  thirteenth 
century  made  it  acceptable  to  the  Christian  Church  in 
her  struggle  against  Pantheism,  and  which  paved  the 
way  for  that  higher  mysticism  of  which  Thomas 
Aquinas  is  the  most  distinguished  exponent  —  a  mys¬ 
ticism  which  does  not,  like  that  of  the  Neoplatonists 
and  Buddhists,  dispense  with  thought  to  lose  itself  in 
vacancy,  but  which,  rising  upon  a  broad  basis  of 
knowledge,  pierces  the  clouds  of  sense,  to  find  itself 
in  the  presence  of  the  most  concrete  Eeality,  the  inex¬ 
haustible  source  of  all  thought  and  all  things. 


CHAPTEE  III 


ARISTOTLE’S  THEORY*  OF  THE  STATE 

First,  then,  let  us  try  to  enumerate  whatever  worthy  utterances 
have  proceeded  from  men  of  the  past  upon  any  aspect  of  the  subject, 
and  then,  referring  to  our  collections  of  Constitutional  Histories, 
let  us  seek  to  arrive  at  a  theory  as  to  what  sorts  of  things  preserve 
and  destroy  each  particular  form  of  government,  and  see  for  what 
reasons  some  are  well,  some  ill,  managed.  Succeeding  in  this,  we 
may,  perhaps,  the  better  learn  both  what  is  the  best  form  of  gov¬ 
ernment,  and  what  arrangements,  laws,  and  customs  are  best  suited 
to  each  form.  — Aristotle. 

Man  is  a  political  animal.  —  Id. 

The  State  is  prior  to  the  individual.  — Id. 

Without  friends  no  one  would  choose  to  live,  although  he  pos¬ 
sessed  all  other  blessings.  —  Id. 

If  happiness  be  self-determination  in  accordance  with  worth,  we 
must  conclude  that  it  will  be  in  accordance  with  the  supreme  worth, 
which  will  be  the  worth  of  the  noblest  part  of  us.  This  part,  what¬ 
ever  it  may  be,  whether  intellect  (vov?)  or  something  else,  that 
which  by  nature  evidently  rules  and  guides  us  and  has  insight  into 
things  beautiful  and  divine,  whether  it  be  itself  divine,  or  the 
divinest  part  of  us,  is  that  whose  self-determination,  in  accordance 
with  its  proper  worth,  will  be  the  perfect  happiness.  That  this 
consists  in  the  vision  of  divine  things  has  already  been  said.  .  .  . 
This,  indeed,  is  the  supreme  self-determination,  for  the  reason  that 
intellect  is  the  highest  part  of  us,  and  that  with  which  it  deals  is 
the  highest  of  the  knowable.  .  .  .  But  a  life  of  this  sort  would  be 
something  higher  than  the  human ;  for  he  who  lived  it  would  not 
be  living  as  man,  but  as  the  subject  of  something  divine.  ...  If, 
then,  intellect  is  something  divine  in  relation  to  man,  the  life  lived 
according  to  it  must  be  divine  in  relation  to  human  life.  Instead, 
then,  of  following  those  who  advise  us,  as  being  human,  to  set  our 
166 


HIS  THEORY  OF  THE  STATE 


167 


thoughts  upon  human  things,  and,  as  being  mortals,  to  set  them  on 
mortal  things,  it  is  our  duty,  as  far  as  may  be,  to  act  as  immortal 
beings,  and  do  all  we  can  to  live  in  accordance  with  the  supreme 
part  of  us.  —  Aristotle. 

Man  alone,  among  all  beings,  occupies  a  middle  place  between 
things  corruptible  and  things  incorruptible.  .  .  .  Two  ends,  there¬ 
fore,  Ineffable  Providence  has  ordained  for  man :  Blessedness  in  this 
life,  which  consists  in  the  exercise  of  native  faculty,  and  is  figured 
by  the  Earthly  Paradise,  and  blessedness  in  the  eternal  life,  which 
consists  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  vision  of  God,  a  thing  not  to  be 
achieved  by  any  native  faculty,  unless  aided  by  divine  light,  and 
which  is  to  be  understood  by  the  Heavenly  Paradise.  .  .  .  These 
ends  and  means  would  be  disregarded  by  human  passion,  if  men 
were  not  restrained  in  their  course  by  bit  and  bridle.  .  .  .  For  this 
reason  man  required  a  double  directive,  corresponding  to  this 
double  end.  He  required  the  Supreme  Pontiff  to  guide  the  human 
race  to  life  eternal,  and  the  Emperor  to  guide  the  human  race  to 
temporal  felicity,  in  accordance  with  the  teachings  of  philosophy. 

.  .  .  The  truth  with  regard  to  the  question  whether  the  authority 
of  the  Emperor  is  derived  directly  from  God  or  from  another,  must 
not  be  taken  so  strictly  as  to  mean  that  the  Roman  Prince  is  not,  in 
some  respects,  subject  to  the  Roman  Pontiff,  the  fact  being  that 
this  moital  felicity  of  ours  is,  in  some  sense,  ordained  with  a  view  to 
immortal  felicity.  Let  Caesar,  therefore,  display  that  reverence  for 
Peter  which  the  first-born  son  ought  to  display  for  his  father,  so 
that,  being  illuminated  by  his  father’s  grace,  he  may  with  greater 
virtue  enlighten  the  world,  which  he  has  been  called  to  govern  by 
Him  who  is  governor  of  all  things,  spiritual  and  temporal.  —  Dante. 

O  Grace  abounding,  whence  I  did  presume 
To  fix  my  gaze  upon  the  eternal  light 
So  far  that  I  consumed  my  sight  therein ! 

Within  its  deeps  I  saw  internalized 
Into  one  volume,  bound  with  love, 

That  which  is  outered  in  the  universe ;  — 

Substance  and  accident,  and  all  their  modes, 

As ’t  were,  together  merged  in  such  a  sort 
That  what  I  mean  is  but  a  simple  light. 

The  universal  form  of  this  same  knot 

I  think  I  saw,  because,  when  thus  I  speak, 

I  feel  that  I  rejoice  with  larger  joy.  — Id. 


168 


ARISTOTLE 


Man’s  chief  end  is  to  glorify  God,  and  to  enjoy  him  forever.  — 
Westminster  Shorter  Catechism. 

Plato’s  chief  purpose,  in  writing  upon  education, 
had  been  to  suggest  a  remedy  for  the  social  and  moral 
conditions  of  his  native  Athens.  Aristotle  has  no 
such  purpose.  He  is,  in  a  very  deep  sense,  a  cosmo¬ 
politan,  and  writes  in  the  interest  of  science  and  uni¬ 
versal  utility.  His  range  of  vision  is  not  confined  to 
Athens,  or  even  to  Greece  (though  he  is  very  proud 
of  being  a  Greek),  but  ranges  over  the  whole  known 
world  in  time  and  space.  Unlike  Plato,  too,  who  had 
been  familiar  mainly  with  institutions  of  the  past  in 
Egypt  and  Greece,  Aristotle  is  deeply  affected  by  the 
tendencies  of  the  future,  and,  though  no  one  lays 
greater  stress  than  he  upon  the  necessity  of  a  knowl¬ 
edge  of  the  past  for  him  who  would  construct  a  sound 
social  theory,  he  nevertheless  declares  that  the  whole 
of  the  past  is  shaped  by  something  which  is  in  the 
future,  by  the  ultimate  realization.  This  view  comes 
out  in  a  paradoxical  way  in  his  famous  saying  that 
“the  State  is  prior  to  the  individual,”  by  which  he 
means  that  it  is  man’s  political  nature  working  in  him 
that  makes  him  an  individual,  and  at  the  same  time 
realizes  itself  in  a  State.  And  this  brings  us  to  Aris¬ 
totle’s  conception  of  the  State,  which  we  must  consider 
before  taking  up  his  theory  of  education,  for  the 
reason  that  to  him,  as  to  all  the  ancient  world,  educa¬ 
tion  is  a  function  of  the  State,  and  is  conducted,  pri¬ 
marily  at  least,  for  the  ends  of  the  State. 

Before  venturing  upon  a  theory  of  the  State,  Aris¬ 
totle,  true  to  his  inductive  principles,  wrote  the  Con¬ 
stitutional  Histories  of  over  two  hundred  and  fifty 


IIIS  THEORY  OF  THE  STATE 


169 


different  states.  One  of  these,  the  Constitutional  His¬ 
tory  of  Athens,  has  recently  been  discovered  and  pub¬ 
lished  (see  p.  96).  He  held  that  it  was  only  by  means 
of  a  broad  induction,  thus  rendered  possible,  that  he 
could  discover  the  idea  of  the  State,  that  is,  its  self- 
realizing  form.  Employing  this  method,  then,  he 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  State  is  that  highest 
social  institution  which  secures  the  highest  good  or 
happiness  of  man.  Having,  in  a  previous  treatise, 
satisfied  himself  that  this  good  is  Worth  (apery),  and 
worth  being  in  every  case  the  full  exercise  of  charac¬ 
teristic  or  differentiating  faculty,  he  concludes  that, 
since  man’s  distinguishing  faculty  is  reason,  the  State 
is  the  institution  which  secures  to  man  the  fullest  and 
freest  exercise  of  this.  It  follows  directly  that  the 
State  is,  simply  and  solely,  the  supreme  educational 
institution,  the  university  to  which  all  other  institu¬ 
tions  are  but  preparatory.  And  two  more  conclusions 
follow :  (1)  that  states  will  differ  in  constitution  with 
the  different  educational  needs  of  the  peoples  among 
whom  they  exist,  and  (2)  that,  since  all  education  is 
but  a  preparation  for  some  worthy  activity,  political 
education,  the  life  of  man  as  a  citizen,  is  but  a  prepa¬ 
ration  for  the  highest  activity,  which,  because  it  is 
highest,  must  necessarily  be  an  end  in  itself.  This 
activity,  Aristotle  argues,  can  be  none  other  than  con¬ 
templation,  the  Vision  of  the  Divine  (6e<opC a). 

Eesults  which  have  moved  the  world  followed 
logically  from  this  doctrine.  Whereas  Plato  had  made 
provision  for  a  small  and  select  body  of  super-civic 
men,  and  so  paved  the  way  for  religious  monasticism 
and  asceticism,  Aristotle  maintains  that  in  every 


170 


ARISTOTLE 


civilized  man,  as  such,  there  is  a  super-civic  part, 
in  fact,  a  superhuman  and  divine  part,  for  the  com¬ 
plete  realization  of  which  all  the  other  parts,  and  the 
State  wherein  they  find  expression,  are  but  means. 
Here  we  have,  in  embryo,  the  whole  of  Dante’s 
theory  of  the  relation  of  Church  and  State,  a  theory 
which  lies  at  the  basis  of  all  modern  political  effort, 
however  little  the  fact  may  be  recognized.  Here, 
indeed,  we  have  the  whole  framework  of  the  Divine 
Comedy ;  here  too  we  have  the  doctrine  of  the  Beatific 
Vision,  which  for  ages  shaped  and,  to  a  large  extent, 
still  shapes,  the  life  of  Christendom.  Well  might 
Dante  claim  Aristotle  as  his  master  (see  p.  153)!  Well 
might  the  great  doctors  of  the  Church  speak  of  him 
as  “  The  Philosopher,”  and  as  the  “Forerunner  of 
Christ  in  Things  Natural.”  In  vain  did  Peter  Bamus 
and  Luther  and  Bruno  and  Bacon  depreciate  or  anath¬ 
ematize  him !  He  is  more  powerful  to-day  in  thought 
and  life  than  at  any  time  for  the  last  twenty -two 
centuries. 

It  may  be  asked  how  far,  and  in  what  form,  Aris¬ 
totle  conceives  the  divine  life  to  be  possible  for  man 
on  earth.  He  answers  that,  though  it  cannot  be  per¬ 
fectly  or  continuously  realized  here,  it  is  in  some 
degree  and  for  certain  times  attainable  (see  p.  161). 
In  so  far  as  it  is  a  social  life,  it  is  the  life  of  friend¬ 
ship  or  spiritual  love  (c ),  to  which  he  has  devoted 
almost  two  books  of  his  Ethics,  books  which  give  us  a 
loftier  idea  of  his  personal  purity  and  worth  than 
any  other  of  his  extant  writings.  He  insists  that 
friendship  is  the  supreme  blessing  (see  p.  166),  and 
that  “whatever  a  man’s  being  is,  or  whatever  he 


HIS  THEORY  OF  THE  STATE 


171 


chooses  to  live  for,  in  that  he  wishes  to  spend  his 
life  in  the  company  of  his  friends.”  It  is  even  said 
that  Aristotle,  while  teaching  in  the  Lyceum,  gath¬ 
ered  about  him  a  knot  of  noble  youths  and  earnest 
students,  and  formed  them  into  a  kind  of  community, 
with  a  view  to  leading  a  truly  spiritual  social  life. 


CHAPTER  IV 


ARISTOTLE’S  PEDAGOGICAL  STATE 

Nature  is  the  beginning  of  everything.  —  Aristotle. 

Life  is  more  than  meat,  and  the  body  than  raiment.  —  Jesus. 

The  forces  of  the  human  passions  in  us,  when  completely  re¬ 
pressed,  become  more  vehement;  hut  when  they  are  called  into 
action  for  short  time  and  in  the  right  degree,  they  enjoy  a  measured 
delight,  are  soothed,  and,  thence  being  purged  away,  cease  in  a 
kindly,  instead  of  a  violent,  way.  For  this  reason,  in  tragedy  and 
comedy,  through  being  spectators  of  the  passions  of  others,  we  still 
our  own  passions,  render  them  more  moderate,  and  purge  them 
away ;  and  so,  likewise,  in  the  temples,  by  seeing  and  hearing  base 
things,  we  are  freed  from  the  injury  that  would  come  from  the 
actual  practice  of  them.  — Jamblichus. 

Care  for  the  body  must  precede  care  for  the  soul ;  next  to  care 
for  the  body  must  come  care  for  the  appetites ;  and,  last  of  all,  care 
for  the  intelligence.  We  train  the  appetites  for  the  sake  of  the 
intelligence,  and  the  body  for  the  sake  of  the  soul.  —  Aristotle. 

The  practice  of  abortion  was  one  to  which  few  persons  in 
antiquity  attached  any  deep  feeling  of  condemnation.  .  .  .  The 
physiological  theory  that  the  foetus  did  not  become  a  living  creature 
till  the  hour  of  birth  had  some  influence  on  the  judgments  passed 
upon  this  practice.  The  death  of  an  unborn  child  does  not  appeal 
very  powerfully  to  the  feeling  of  compassion,  and  men  who  had  not 
yet  attained  any  strong  sense  of  the  sanctity  of  human  life,  who 
believed  that  they  might  regulate  their  conduct  on  these  matters 
by  utilitarian  views,  according  to  the  general  interest  of  the  com¬ 
munity,  might  very  readily  conclude  that  prevention  of  birth  was 
in  many  cases  an  act  of  mercy.  In  Greece,  Aristotle  not  only 
countenanced  the  practice,  but  even  desired  that  it  should  be  en¬ 
forced  by  law,  when  population  had  exceeded  certain  assigned 
limits.  No  law  in  Greece,  or  in  the  Roman  Republic,  or  during  the 
172 


HIS  PEDAGOGICAL  STATE 


173 


greater  part  of  the  Empire,  condemned  it.  .  .  .  The  language  of 
the  Christians  from  the  very  beginning  was  very  different.  With 
unwavering  consistency  and  with  the  strongest  emphasis,  they 
denounced  the  practice,  not  simply  as  inhuman,  but  as  definitely 
murder.  —  Lecky,  European  Morals. 

Aristotle  clearly  saw  that  the  strong  tendency  of  the  human  race 
to  increase,  unless  corrected  by  strict  and  positive  laws,  was  abso¬ 
lutely  fatal  to  every  system  founded  on  equality  of  property ;  and 
there  cannot  surely  he  a  stronger  argument  against  any  system  of 
this  kind  than  the  necessity  of  such  laws  as  Aristotle  himself  pro¬ 
poses.  ...  He  seems  to  be  fully  aware  that  to  encourage  the 
birth  of  children,  without  providing  properly  for  their  support,  is  to 
obtain  a  very  small  accession  to  the  population  of  a  country,  at  the 
expense  of  a  very  great  accession  of  misery.  —  Malthus,  Essay  on 
Population. 

Considering  Aristotle’s  views  with  regard  to  man, 
his  end,  and  the  function  of  the  State,  we  can  have 
little  difficulty  in  divining  the  character  and  method 
of  his  educational  system.  Man  is  a  being  endowed 
with  reason;  his  end  is  the  full  realization  of  this, 
his  sovereign  and  distinguishing  faculty;  the  State 
is  the  means  whereby  this  is  accomplished. 

Readers  of  Goethe’s  Wilhelm  Meister  will  remember 
the  description,  in  the  second  part,  of  the  Pedagogical 
Province.  Now,  Aristotle’s  State  might  with  entire 
propriety  be  called  a  Pedagogical  Province.  In  try¬ 
ing  to  describe  this  State,  and  the  manner  in  which 
it  discharges  its  function,  it  is  difficult  to  know 
where  to  begin,  for  the  reason  that,  taken  as  a  whole, 
the  State  is  both  teacher  and  pupil.  It  arranges 
the  whole  scheme  of  education,  and  is  therefore 
related  to  it  as  cause ;  it  is  built  up  by  this  scheme, 
and  is  therefore  related  to  it  as  effect.  It  comes, 
accordingly,  both  at  the  beginning  and  at  the  end. 


174 


ARISTOTLE 


It  is  a  university  which  arranges  the  entire  scheme  of 
education,  and  is  itself  its  highest  grade.  I  shall  try 
to  surmount  this  difficulty  by  distinguishing  what  the 
State  is  from  what  it  does,  beginning  with  the  former, 
and  ending  with  the  latter. 

A\  itli  regard  to  what  the  State  is,  we  have  to  con¬ 
sider  (1)  its  natural,  (2)  its  social,  conditions.  The 
former  are  climate,  and  extent,  nature,  and  situation 
of  territory;  the  latter,  number  and  character  of  in¬ 
habitants,  property  regulations,  distinction  of  classes, 
city  architecture,  mode  of  life,  government,  and  rela¬ 
tions  to  other  states. 

Aristotle  demands  for  his  State  a  temperate  cli¬ 
mate,  on  the  ground  that  a  cold  one  renders  men 
strong  and  bold,  but  dull  and  stupid,  while  a  hot  one 
renders  them  intellectual  but  effeminate.  The  best 
climate  is  one  that  makes  them  at  once  brave  and 
intelligent.  The  territory  must  be  extensive  enough, 
and  fertile  enough,  to  supply  its  inhabitants  with  all 
the  material  conditions  of  life  in  answer  to  labor 
which  shall  rouse,  without  exhausting,  their  energies. 
It  must  face  east  or  south,  and  be  healthy,  well- 
watered,  accessible  from  land  and  sea,  and  easily 
defensible. 

As  to  the  social  conditions,  Aristotle  finds  the  most 
important  to  be  the  number  of  citizens.  And  here 
two  things  must  be  carefully  borne  in  mind.  (1) 
He  means  by  “  State  ”  a  city  with  a  small  territory. 
This  is  not,  as  has  been  erroneously  supposed,  his 
highest  social  unity.  He  recognizes  clearly  the  nation 
(ZOvos)  and  the  confederacy  (o-v/x/xayta) ;  but  he  holds 
that  they  exist  merely  for  material  ends,  whereas  the 


HIS  PEDAGOGICAL  STATE 


175 


end  of  the  State  is  spiritual.  (2)  He  means  by  “  citi¬ 
zen  ”  a  politician.  A  man  is  a  citizen,  not  because  he 
is  born  or  domiciled  in  a  State,  but  because  he  is  a 
sharer  in  its  functions.  A  State  made  up  of  mechan¬ 
ics,  no  matter  how  great  their  number,  would  be  a 
small  State,  and  one  composed  of  slaves  would  be 
no  State  at  all.  Thus,  in  estimating  the  size  of 
a  State,  we  are  to  consider  the  character  of  its 
inhabitants,  their  fitness  for  political  functions,  rather 
than  their  number.  Little  Athens  was  a  much  larger 
State  than  gigantic  Persia  on  the  field  of  Marathon. 
Aristotle  lays  down  that  the  number  of  citizens  must 
be  large  enough  to  insure  independence,  this  being 
essential  to  a  Culture-State,  and  not  too  large  to  be 
manageable.  Besides  the  citizens,  there  will  neces¬ 
sarily  be  in  the  State  a  very  large  number  of  other 
human  beings,  slaves,  agriculturists,  mechanics,  sail¬ 
ors —  for  all  these  he  excludes  from  citizenship  on 
the  ground  that  they  do  not  make  virtue,  that  is,  the 
realization  of  reason,  the  end  of  their  lives.  Women, 
in  a  sense,  are  citizens,  if  they  belong  to  the  families 
of  citizens ;  but  their  sphere  is  the  family. 

With  regard  to  property,  Aristotle  begins  by  con¬ 
sidering  what  things  it  is  necessary  for.  These  he 
finds  to  be  six,  three  private  and  three  public.  The 
former  are  food  (including  clothing  and  shelter), 
instruments  of  production,  and  arms;  the  latter  are 
public  enterprises  (civil  and  military),  religion,  and 
law.  These  are  the  “  necessaries  ”  (avayKaia)  of  a  State, 
for  which  it  must  duly  provide.  The  most  important 
of  all  is  religion,  on  which  he  everywhere  lays  great 
stress.  As  to  the  distribution  of  property,  he  pro- 


176 


ARISTOTLE 


pounds  a  scheme  which  is  half  socialistic.  All  the 
land  is  to  belong  to  the  State,  that  is,  to  the  body  of 
the  free  citizens.  It  is  to  be  divided  into  two  equal 
portions,  and  one  set  apart  for  public,  the  other  for 
private,  uses.  The  revenue  from  the  public  part  is  to 
go  for  the  support  of  religion  (and  law?)  and  of  the 
public  tables,  from  which  no  citizen  is  excluded  by 
poverty.  The  private  part  is  to  be  so  divided  that 
each  citizen  shall  have  one  lot  near  the  city,  and 
one  near  the  frontier.  This  will  give  him  an  interest 
in  defending  the  whole  territory.  Both  parts  are  to 
be  cultivated  by  serfs  or  slaves,  part  of  whom  will 
necessarily  belong  to  the  State,  and  part  to  private 
individuals.  Land-owning  is  to  be  a  condition  of 
citizenship,  and  all  citizens  are  to  be  forbidden  to 
exercise  any  form  of  productive  industry.  This  last 
rule,  it  is  hoped,  will  prevent  grievous  inequalities  of 
wealth,  and  the  evils  that  flow  from  them.  A  modest 
competency,  derived  from  his  estate,  is  all  that  any 
citizen  should  aim  at.  Only  degraded  people,  inca¬ 
pable  of  virtue,  will  crave  for  more. 

Upon  the  distinction  of  classes  some  light  has 
been  already  thrown.  They  are  two ;  the  ruling  and 
the  ruled.  Aristotle  holds  that  this  distinction  runs 
through  the  whole  of  nature  and  spirit,  that  it  is 
fundamental  in  being  itself.  It  holds  between  God 
and  the  universe,  form  and  matter,  soul  and  body, 
object  and  subject,  husband  and  wife,  parent  and 
child,  master  and  slave,  etc.,  etc.  The  ruling  class 
again  is  sub-divided  into  two  parts,  one  that  thinks 
and  determines  (legislators  and  judges),  and  one  that 
executes  (officials,  officers,  soldiers);  while  the  ruled 


HIS  PEDAGOGICAL  STATE 


177 


is  sub-divided  into  husbandmen,  mechanics,  and  sea¬ 
men  (sailors,  fishermen,  etc.).  All  the  members  of 
the  ruled  class  are  serfs  or  public  slaves,  working,  not 
for  themselves,  but  for  their  masters.  Aristotle  holds 
that  they  ought  to  be  barbarians  of  different  races, 
and  not  Greeks. 

The  architecture  of  the  city  will  in  some  degree 
correspond  to  this  social  division.  It  will  naturally 
fall  into  three  divisions,  military,  religious,  and  civil. 
First  of  all,  a  city  must  have  walls.  These  should 
have  towers  and  bastions  at  proper  distances,  and  be 
made  as  attractive  as  possible.  The  temples  of  the 
gods  and  the  offices  of  the  chief  magistrates  should, 
if  possible,  stand  together  on  a  fortified  citadel,  con¬ 
spicuously  dominating  the  entire  city.  Adjoining 
this  ought  to  be  the  Freemen’s  Square,  reserved 
entirely  for  the  ruling  class,  and  unencumbered  by 
business  or  wares  of  any  sort.  Here  ought  to  stand 
the  gymnasium  for  the  older  citizens,  who  will  thus 
be  brought  into  contact  with  the  magistrates  and 
inspired  with  “true  reverence  and  freemen’s  fear.” 
The  market-square  must  be  placed  so  as  to  be  conven¬ 
ient  for  the  reception  of  goods  both  from  sea  and 
land.  This  comprehends  all  the  civil  architecture 
except  the  mess-halls,  of  which  we  shall  better  speak 
in  the  next  paragraph. 

The  mode  of  life  of  the  ruling  class  will  necessarily 
differ  widely  from  that  of  the  ruled.  About  the 
latter  Aristotle  has  nothing  to  say.  He  hopes  for 
little  from  that  class  beyond  the  possibility  of  being 
held  in  contented  subordination.  As  it  has  no  politi¬ 
cal  life,  all  that  is  left  to  it  is  the  life  of  the  family. 


178 


ARISTOTLE 


The  ruling  class,  on  the  contrary,  live  to  a  large 
extent  in  public,  and  on  public  funds.  They  exercise 
in  public  gymnasia  and  eat  at  public  tables.  The 
chief  magistrates  have  their  mess-hall  in  the  citadel; 
the  priests  have  theirs  close  to  the  temples;  the 
magistrates,  who  preside  over  business  matters,  streets, 
and  markets,  have  theirs  near  the  market-square, 
while  those  who  attend  to  the  defences  of  the  city 
have  tables  in  the  towers.  When  not  engaged  in  pub¬ 
lic  business,  the  citizens  may  meet  in  the  Freemen  ?s 
Square  and  enjoy  an  open-air  conversazione,  with 
music,  poetry,  and  philosophy,  in  a  word,  Sc ayuyj,  for 
which  our  language  has  no  even  approximate  equiva¬ 
lent  (see  p.  33).  In  proportion  as  they  advance  in 
the  citizens  enjoy  more  and  more  Siayioyrj,  which, 
indeed,  is  regarded  as  the  end  of  life,  here  and 
hereafter. 

The  government  is  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the 
free  citizens,  the  legislative  and  deliberative  power 
being  in  those  of  the  elders;  the  executive  power, 
civil  and  military,  in  those  of  the  younger  portion. 
It  is  curious  that,  though  Aristotle  regards  this  as  the 
best  possible  arrangement  under  ordinary  circum¬ 
stances,  he  nevertheless  believes  that  the  happiest 
condition  for  a  State  would  be  to  be  governed  by 
some  divine  or  heroic  man,  far  superior  to  all  the 
others  in  wisdom  and  goodness.  He  plainly  considers 
Pisistratus  to  have  been  one  such  man,  and  he  perhaps 
hoped  that  Alexander  might  be  another. 

The  relations  of  the  pedagogical  State  to  other 
States  are,  as  far  as  possible,  to  be  peaceful.  Just 
as  all  labor  is  for  the  sake  of  rest  and  Siayuyrj,  so  all 


HIS  PEDAGOGICAL  STATE 


179 


war  is  for  the  sake  of  peace;  and  that  State  is  to  be 
envied  which  can  maintain  an  honorable  independ¬ 
ence  without  war.  A  cultured  State  will  eschew  all 
attempts  at  conquest,  and  be  as  unwilling  to  tyrannize 
over  another  State  as  to  be  tyrannized  over  by  one. 
At  the  same  time,  it  will  always  be  prepared  for  war, 
possessing  an  army  of  well-trained,  well-armed  sol¬ 
diers,  and  a  well-manned,  well-equipped  fleet. 

Such  are  the  chief  features  of  Aristotle’s  ideal 
State,  based,  as  he  believes,  on  man’s  political  nature 
and  the  history  of  the  past.  Like  all  social  ideals, 
like  heaven  itself,  as  ordinarily  conceived,  it  is  a  static 
condition.  Its  institutions  are  fixed  once  for  all,  and 
every  effort  is  made  to  preserve  them.  It  is  curious 
to  note  in  how  many  points  it  coincides  with  Xeno¬ 
phon’s  ideal. 

The  purpose  of  the  State  is  to  educate  its  citizens, 
to  make  them  virtuous.  Virtue  is  the  very  life-prin¬ 
ciple  of  the  State,  and  it  does  not  depend,  as  other 
conditions  do,  upon  nature  or  chance,  but  upon  free 
will.  The  ideal  State,  like  every  other,  must  educate 
with  a  view  to  its  own  institutions,  since  only  in  this 
way  can  these  be  preserved.  “And,  since  the  State, 
as  a  whole,  has  but  one  aim,  it  is  evident  that  the 
political  education  of  all  the  citizens  ought  to  be  the 
same,  and  that  this  is  a  matter  for  the  State  to  attend 
to,  and  not  one  to  be  left  to  individual  caprice,  as  is 
now  almost  universally  done,  when  every  parent 
attends  to  the  education  of  his  own  children,  and 
gives  them  whatever  schooling  suits  his  own  fancy.” 
For  the  education  of  those  members  of  the  State  who 
are  not  citizens  the  State  makes  no  provision.  They 


180 


ARISTOTLE 


learn  their  practical  duties  by  performing  them,  and 
are  completely  under  the  control  of  the  citizens. 
Aristotle  makes  the  most  vigorous  efforts  to  prove 
that  slavery  has  its  justification  in  nature,  which  has 
established  between  Greek  and  barbarian  the  relation 
of  master  and  slave  (see  p.  12).  As  woman  belongs 
to  the  family,  and  is  only  indirectly  a  citizen  of  the 
State,  her  education  is  entrusted  to  the  former  insti¬ 
tution.  The  daughter  is  to  be  educated  by  the  par¬ 
ents,  and  the  wife  by  the  husband,  exactly  as  recom¬ 
mended  by  Xenophon. 

Having  concluded  that  education  ought  to  be  a 
matter  of  State  legislation,  and  the  same  for  all  the 
citizens,  he  continues:  “It  remains  to  inquire  what 
shall  be  the  nature  of  the  education,  and  the  method 
of  imparting  it.  .  .  .  The  present  state  of  education 
leaves  this  question  in  a  perfect  muddle,  no  one  seem¬ 
ing  to  know  whether  we  ought  to  teach  those  subjects 
which  enable  people  to  make  a  living,  or  those  which 
foster  worth,  or,  finally,  accomplishments.  All  have 
had  their  advocates.  In  regard  to  those  studies  which 
have  worth  for  their  aim,  there  is  no  general  agree¬ 
ment,  owing  to  the  fact  that  different  people  have 
different  views  as  to  what  kinds  of  worth  are  admir¬ 
able,  and  consequently  differ  in  regard  to  the  means 
to  be  employed  for  the  cultivation  of  them.  One 
point,  however,  is  perfectly  clear,  viz.  that  those 
useful  things  which  are  necessary  ought  to  be  taught. 
But  it  is  equally  clear  that  a  distinction  ought  to  be 
made  between  liberal  and  illiberal  studies,  and  that 
only  those  useful  subjects  ought  to  be  taught  which 
do  not  turn  those  learning  them  into  craftsmen.  We 


HIS  PEDAGOGICAL  STATE 


181 


ought  to  look  upon  every  employment,  art,  or  study 
which  contributes  to  render  the  bodies,  souls,  or  intel¬ 
lects  of  free  men  unfit  for  the  uses  and  practices  of 
virtue,  as  a  craft.  For  this  reason  it  is  that  we  call 
all  those  arts  which  lower  the  condition  of  the  body 
crafts,  and  extend  the  term  to  the  money-making 
trades,  because  they  preoccupy  and  degrade  the  intel¬ 
ligence.  As  to  the  liberal  arts,  to  cultivate  an 
acquaintance  with  them  up  to  a  certain  point  is  not 
illiberal  ;  but  any  over-devotion  to  them,  with  a  view 
to  attaining  professional  skill,  is  liable  to  the  objec¬ 
tions  mentioned.  It  also  makes  a  great  difference  for 
what  purpose  we  do  or  learn  a  thing.  If  a  man  does 
a  thing  for  his  own,  for  his  friends’,  or  for  worth’s 
sake,  it  is  not  illiberal,  whereas  if  he  does  it  often 
for  the  sake  of  anybody  else,  he  will  be  held  to  be 
doing  something  mercenary  or  slavish.” 

The  next  and  all-important  question  is,  For  what 
end  shall  the  State  educate,  —  for  business  for 
leisure?  In  answering  this,  Aristotle  breaks  entirely 
away  from  the  old  Greek  traditions,  as  well  as  from 
Plato,  and  maintains  that,  while  it  must  educate  for 
both,  yet  education  for  leisure  is  far  more  important 
than  education  for  business,  and  cites  Nature  as  his 
authority.  “Nature  itself  demands,”  he  says,  “not 
only  that  we  should  pursue  business  properly,  but 
that  we  should  be  able  to  employ  our  leisure  ele¬ 
gantly.  If  we  must  have  both,  we  must;  but  leisure 
is  preferable  to  business,  and  our  final  inquiry  must 
be,  in  what  sort  of  employment  wre  shall  spend  our 
leisure.  It  is  useless  to  say  that  we  are  to  spend  it 
in  play,  and  that  play  is  the  end  and  aim  of  our  life. 


182 


ARISTOTLE 


If  this  is  impossible,  and  the  truth  is  that  the  proper 
place  for  play  is  in  the  midst  of  business  (it  is  the 
man  who  is  toiling  that  requires  recreation,  which  is 
the  aim  of  play,  business  being  accompanied  with 
exeition  and  tension),  then,  in  having  recourse  to 
play,  we  must  select  the  proper  seasons  for  adminis¬ 
tering  it,  just  as  if  it  were  a  medicine.  Indeed,  all 
such  movement  of  ohe  soul  is  relaxation,  and  becomes 
recreation  on  account  of  the  pleasure  which  it  affords. 
Leisure,  on  the  contrary,  is  considered,  in  and  by 
itself,  to  involve  pleasure,  happiness,  and  a  blessed 
life.  These  fall  to  the  lot  of  those  who  have  leisure, 
not  of  those  who  are  engaged  in  business.  Those 
who  engage  in  business  do  so  for  some  ulterior  end 
not  realized  in  it,  whereas  happiness  is  itself  an  end 
and,  according  to  universal  belief,  brings,  not  pain 
but  pleasure.  Of  course,  as  to  the  nature  of  this 
pleasuie,  there  is  at  present  a  variety  of  opinions, 
every  one  having  his  own  preferences  due  to  his 
chaiacter  and  habits,  and  the  highest  type  of  man 
preferring  the  highest  type  of  pleasure  and  that  which 
arises  f lom  the  noblest  things.  "We  need  no  further 
aigument  to  show  that  we  should  receive  instruction 
and  education  in  certain  things  with  a  view  to  otium 
cum  dignitate  (or  cultured  leisure),  and  that  these 
should  be  ends  in  themselves,  in  contradistinction  to 
the  instruction  given  for  business,  which  is  necessary 
and  has  an  ulterior  aim.  ” 

Three  principles  Aristotle  lays  down  as  valid  for 
all  education:  (1)  that  the  training  of  the  body 
ought  to  take  precedence  in  time  over  that  of  the 
mind;  (2)  that  pupils  should  be  taught  to  do  things 


HIS  PEDAGOGICAL  STATE 


183 


before  they  are  taught  the  reasons  and  principles  of 
them;  (3)  that  learning  is  never  playing,  or  for  the 
sake  of  playing. 

The  periods  of  education  distinguished  by  Aristotle 
are:  (1)  Childhood,  extending  from  birth  to  the  end  of 
the  seventh  year,  and  spent  in  healthy  growing  and, 
latterly,  in  preparation  for  discipline;  (2)  Boyhood, 
from  the  beginning  of  the  eighth  year  to  the  advent 
of  puberty,  devoted  to  the  lighter  forms  of  discipline, 
bodily  and  mental;  (3)  Youth,  from  the  age  of  puberty 
to  the  end  of  the  twenty-first  year,  occupied  with  the 
severer  forms  of  discipline;  (4)  Manhood,  devoted  to 
State  duties.  All  these  are  but  preparations  for  the 
divine  life  of  the  soul.  We  shall  treat  these  in  order, 
including  the  second  and  third  under  one  head. 


CHAPTER  V 


EDUCATION  DURING  THE  FIRST  SEVEN  YEARS 

Suffer  no  lewdness  or  indecent  speech 

The  apartment  of  tender  youth  to  reach.  — Juvenal. 

Le  coeur  d’un  homme  vierge  est  un  vase  profond  — 

Lorsque  la  premiere  eau  qu’on  y  verse  est  impure, 

La  mer  y  passerait  sans  laver  la  souillure ; 

Car  l’abime  est  immense,  et  la  tache  est  au  fond. 

—  Alfred  de  Musset. 

The  State  must  begin  the  education  of  children  be¬ 
fore  their  birth  j  indeed,  before  the  marriage  of  their 
parents.  It  must  see  that  only  persons  of  robust  con¬ 
stitutions  marry.  Athletes  are  not  suited  for  marriage, 
neither  are  weaklings.  The  best  age  for  marriage  is 
thirty-seven  for  a  man,  and  eighteen  for  a  woman. 
During  their  pregnancy  women  must  take  special  care 
of  their  health,  living  on  light  food,  and  taking  short 
walks.  The  State  should  make  a  law  that  they  visit 
the  temples  of  certain  gods  every  day,  and  offer  up  a 
prayer  of  thanksgiving  for  the  honor  conferred,  upon 
them.  They  must  carefully  avoid  all  forms  of  emo¬ 
tional  excitement.  When  defective  children  are  born, 
they  must  be  exposed  or  destroyed.  The  State  must 
determine  what  number  of  children  each  married 
couple  may  have,  and,  if  more  than  this  number  are 
begotten,  they  must  be  destroyed  either  before  or  after 

birth.  “  As  soon  as  children  are  born,  it  ought  to  be 
184 


EDUCATION  THE  FIRST  SEVEN  YEARS  185 

remembered  that  their  future  strength  will  depend 
greatly  upon  the  nourishment  supplied  to  them.”  A 
milk  diet  is  best,  and  wine  must  be  avoided.  “  It  is 
likewise  of  great  importance  that  children  should 
make  those  motions  that  are  appropriate  to  their  stage 
of  development.  .  .  .  Whatever  it  is  possible  to 
inure  children  to,  they  ought  to  be  subjected  to  from 
the  very  outset,  and  gradual  progress  to  be  made. 
Children,  on  account  of  their  high  natural  warmth,  are 
the  proper  subjects  for  inurement  to  cold.  These  and 
other  points  of  the  same  nature  are  what  ought  to  be 
attended  to  in  the  first  years  of  the  child’s  life.  In 
the  following  years,  up  to  the  age  of  five,  while  chil¬ 
dren  ought  not  to  be  subjected  to  any  instruction  or 
severe  discipline,  for  fear  of  impeding  their  growth, 
they  ought  to  take  such  exercises  as  shall  guard  their 
bodies  from  sluggishness.  This  may  be  secured  by 
other  forms  of  activity  as  well  as  by  play.  Care  must 
be  taken  that  their  games  shall  be  neither  unrefined, 
laborious,  nor  languid.  As  to  the  conversation 
and  stories  which  children  are  to  hear,  that  is  a 
matter  for  the  attention  of  those  officers  called  Guar¬ 
dians  of  Public  Instruction.  It  ought  to  be  seen  to 
that  all  such  things  tend  to  pave  the  way  for  future 
avocations.  Hence  all  games  ought  to  be  types  of 
future  studies.  As  to  the  screaming  and  crying  of 
children,  they  are  things  that  ought  not  to  be  prohib¬ 
ited,  as  they  are  in  some  places.  They  contribute  to 
the  growth  of  the  body,  by  acting  as  a  sort  of  gymnas¬ 
tics.  Just  as  persons  engaged  in  hard  work  increase 
their  strength  by  holding  their  breath,  so  children 
increase  theirs  by  screaming.  It  is  the  business  of 


186 


ARISTOTLE 


the  Guardians  of  Public  Instruction  to  provide  for 
their  amusement  generally,  as  well  as  to  see  that  these 
bring  them  as  little  as  possible  in  contact  with  slaves. 
It  is,  of  course,  natural  that  at  this  age  they  should 
learn  improprieties  of  speech  and  manner  from  what 
they  hear  and  see.  As  to  foul  language,  it  ought,  of 
course,  like  everything  else  that  is  foul,  to  be  prohib¬ 
ited  mall  society  (for  frivolous  impurity  of  talk  easily 
leads  to  impurity  of  action),  but  above  all,  in  the  so¬ 
ciety  of  the  young,  so  that  they  may  neither  hear  nor 
utter  any  such  thing.  If  any  child  be  caught  uttering 
or  doing  anything  that  is  forbidden,  if  he  be  freeborn 
and  under  the  age  when  children  are  allowed  to  come 
to  the  public  table,  he  ought  to  be  disgraced  and  sub¬ 
jected  to  corporal  punishment;  if  he  be  older,  it  will 
be  sufficent  to  punish  him  with  disgrace,  like  a  slave, 
for  having  behaved  like  one.  And  if  we  thus  prohibit 
all  mention  of  improper  things,  with  stronger  reason 
shall  we  prohibit  all  looking  at  improper  pictures  and 
listening  to  improper  narratives.  It  ought  to  be  made 
the  business  of  the  Guardians  of  Public  Instruction  to 
see  that  there  does  not  exist  a  statue  or  a  picture 
representing  any  such  thing  anywhere  in  the  State, 
except  m  the  temples  of  those  gods  to  whom  ordinary 
belief  ascribes  a  certain  wantonness.  .  .  .  There 
ought  to  be  a  regulation  forbidding  young  persons  to 
be  present  at  lampoons  or  comedies  before  they  reach 
the  age  when  they  are  allowed  to  come  to  the  public 
table  and  partake  of  wine,  and  when  education  has 
fortified  them  against  all  possible  danger  from  them. 

•  •  •  We  all  have  a  preference  for  what  we  first  know; 
for  this  reason  everything  that  savors  of  meanness  or 


EDUCATION  THE  FIRST  SEVEN  YEARS  187 


ignobility  ouglit  to  be  made  alien  to  children.  From 
the  completion  of  their  fifth  year  to  that  of  their 
seventh,  children  ought  to  be  present  at  the  giving  of 
the  various  kinds  of  instruction  which  they  will  after¬ 
wards  have  to  acquire.” 

In  this  brief  sketch  of  primary  education  we  see 
that  Aristotle  does  not  depart  far  from  the  notions  of 
Plato.  It  contains  even  the  revolting  features  of  his 
scheme.  It  assumes  that  the  citizens  —  men,  women, 
and,  after  a  certain  age,  children  —  eat  at  public 
tables,  and  that  education  is  entirely  managed  by  the 
State,  — the  family,  in  this  respect,  being  merely  its 
agent.  Some  of  its  features,  including  the  Guardians 
of  Public  Instruction  (ttcuSoj/o/xoi,  child-herds)  are 
plainly  borrowed  from  Sparta. 


% 


CHAPTEE  VI 

THE  YEARS  FROM  SEVEN  TO  TWENTY-ONE 

The  natures  that  give  evidence  of  being  the  noblest  are  just  those 
that  most  require  education.  —  Socrates. 

We  found  ourselves  beneath  a  noble  castle 
Encompassed  seven  times  with  lofty  walls, 

Defended  round  by  a  fair  rivulet. 

O’er  this  we  passed  as  upon  solid  earth  : 

Through  seven  gates  I  entered  with  these  sages. 

V  e  came  upon  a  meadow  of  fresh  green.  —  Dante. 

For  this  period,  which  Aristotle  divides  into  two 
(see  p.  183)  by  the  advent  of  puberty,  he,  in  the 
main,  accepts  the  course  of  study  customary  in  his 
time.  It  consists,  lie  says,  of  four  branches, —  a  Let¬ 
ters,  Gymnastics,  Music,  and  Drawing,  the  last  not 
being  universal.”  Letters  and  Drawing  are  taught 
because  they  are  useful  in  the  ordinary  business  of 
life  and  for  a  variety  of  purposes,  and  Gymnastics 
because  they  foster  manliness,  whereas  the  purpose 
of  Music  is  doubtful.” 

Of  Letters  Aristotle  has  not  much  to  say,  beyond 
the  fact  that  they  are  necessary  in  the  common  affairs 
of  life.  He  champions  Homer  against  Plato,  and  goes 
into  a  long  discussion  to  show  the  value  of  the  drama. 
Instead  of  believing,  with  Plato,  that  children  should 
see  and  hear  nothing  that  would  excite  their  emo¬ 
tions,  he  maintains  that  it  is  only  by  being  properly 
188 


YEARS  FROM  SEVEN  TO  TWENTY-ONE  189 

excited  and  “  purged  ”  that  these  can  he  trained  and 
made  subordinate  to  the  reason.  Among  the  passions 
that  obstruct  the  exercise  of  reason  are  fear  and  pity. 
Tragedy  rouses  these  and  then  drains  them  off  in  a 
pleasant  and  harmless  way.  Comedy  does  the  same 
thing  for  pleasure  and  laughter.  In  fact,  he  main¬ 
tains  that  the  special  function  of  the  fine  arts  is  to  act 
as  cathartics  for  the  different  passions.  Art  is  ideal 
experience.  Aristotle  has  left  us  a  work  on  tragedy 
that  holds  the  place  of  honor  in  the  literature  of  that 
subject  even  at  the  present  day. 

Drawing  Aristotle  recommends  as  a  branch  of  study 
which  develops  taste  and  judgment  in  regard  to  the 
products  of  industrial  art;  but  he  says  it  should  not 
be  studied  merely  for  its  use  in  enabling  us  to  choose 
these,  or  even  works  of  fine  art,  correctly,  but  rather 
because  it  enables  us  to  appreciate  beauty  of  form. 
He  adds :  “  The  perpetual  demand  for  what  is  merely 
useful  is  anything  but  a  mark  of  breadth  or  liberality. 

After  thus  briefly  dismissing  Letters  and  Drawing, 
Aristotle  passes  on  to  Gymnastics  and  Music,  and 
devotes  considerable  space  to  each. 

Alongside  Gymnastics,  but  distinguished  from 
them,  he  names  Physical  Culture  (ttcuSotpi/3ik>7), 
saying  that,  while  the  former  gives  character  to  the 
acts  of  the  body,  the  latter  gives  character  to  the 
body  itself.  The  aim  of  gymnastic  training  should 
be  neither  athleticism  nor  ferocity,  such  as  the  Lace¬ 
daemonians  cultivate  in  their  children  in  the  hope  of 
making  them  courageous.  The  former  is  detrimental 
to  the  beauty  and  growth  of  the  body;  the  latter 
misses  its  aim  (see  p.  41).  “  Hence  nobility,  and  not 


190 


ARISTOTLE 


ferocity,  ought  to  play  the  principal  part  among  our 
aims  in  physical  education.  For  neither  a  wolf  nor 
any  other  wild  beast  ever  braved  a  noble  danger.  To 
do  that  takes  a  noble  man ;  and  those  who  allow  their 
children  to  go  too  deep  into  such  wild  exercises,  and 
so  leave  them  uninstructed  in  the  necessary  branches, 
make  them,  in  point  of  fact,  mere  professionals,  use¬ 
ful  for  the  ends  of  the  State  only  in  a  single  requi¬ 
site,  and,  as  we  have  shown,  inferior  to  others  even 
in  that. 

“There  is  a  general  agreement,  then,  as  to  the 
utility  of  Gymnastics  and  to  the  manner  in  which 
they  ought  to  be  conducted.  Up  to  the  age  of 
puberty,  children  ought  to  be  subjected  only  to  the 
lighter  exercises,  and  all  forced  dieting  and  violent 
exertions  eschewed,  so  that  no  obstacle  may  be  put  to 
the  growth  of  the  body.  It  is  no  slight  evidence  of 
the  fact  that  violent  exercise  impedes  growth,  that 
there  are  not  more  than  two  or  three  examples  on  rec- 
01  d  of  persons’  having  been  victorious  at  the  Olympic 
games  both  as  boys  and  men.  The  explanation  of 
this  is,  that  the  others  were  robbed  of  their  strength 
in  their  boyhood  by  the  training  they  had  to  undergo.” 
After  the  advent  of  puberty,  for  a  period  of  three 
yeais,  the  young  men  are  apparently  to  have  very 
little  gymnastics,  and  to  devote  themselves  assidu¬ 
ously  to  letters,  music,  and  drawing.  The  period 
following  this  is  to  be  devoted  to  severe  exercise  and 
strict  dieting,  mental  exertion  being  reduced  to  a 
minimum  j  for  the  two  kinds  of  exertion  naturally 
work  against  each  other,  bodily  exertion  impeding 
the  intellect,  and  intellectual  exertion  the  body.” 


YEARS  FROM  SEVEN  TO  TWENTY-ONE  191 

On  Music,  as  a  branch  of  study,  we  have  almost 
a  disquisition  from  the  pen  of  Aristotle.  The  ques¬ 
tion  that  first  occupies  him  is,  What  is  the  use  of 
music?  Is  it  a  recreation,  an  occupation  for  cultured 
leisure,  or  a  gymnastic  for  the  soul?  It  is  all  three, 
he  replies,  and  would  deserve  study  for  the  sake  of 
any  one  of  them.  At  the  same  time,  its  chief  value 
in  education  lies  in  its  third  use.  Music  imparts  a 
mental  habit;  about  that  there  can  be  no  doubt.  For 
example,  the  songs  of  Olympus  “  render  the  soul 
enthusiastic,  and  enthusiasm  is  an  affection  of  the 
soul’s  habit.”  Aristotle  reasons  in  this  way:  Music 
is  capable  of  affecting  us  with  all  kinds  of  pleasures 
and  pains.  But  moral  worth  at  bottom  consists  in 
finding  pleasure  in  what  is  noble,  and  pain  in  what  is 
ignoble,  that  is,  in  a  correct  distribution  of  affection. 
But  in  good  music  the  strains  that  give  pleasure  are 
attached  to  the  ideas  that  are  noble,  and  the  strains 
that  give  pain  to  the  ideas  that  are  ignoble;  hence, 
by  a  natural  association,  the  pleasures  and  pains 
which  we  find  in  the  music  attach  themselves  to  the 
ideas  which  it  accompanies.  “  There  is  nothing  that 
we  ought  to  learn  and  practice  so  assiduously  as  the 
art  of  judging  correctly  and  of  taking  delight  in  gen¬ 
tlemanly  bearing  and  noble  deeds.  And  apart  from 
the  natural  manifestations  of  the  passions  themselves, 
there  is  nothing  in  which  we  can  find  anger,  gentle¬ 
ness,  courage,  self-control,  and  their  opposites,  as 
well  as  the  other  moods,  so  well  represented  as  in 
rhythms  and  songs.  This  we  all  know  by  experience; 
for  the  moods  of  our  souls  change  when  we  listen  to 
such  strains.  But  the  practice  which  we  thus  receive 


192 


ARISTOTLE 


fiom  rhythms  and  songs,  in  rejoicing  and  suffering 
properly,  brings  us  very  near  being  affected  in  the 
same  way  by  the  realities  themselves.’'  Here  Aris¬ 
totle  draws  a  distinction  between  music,  which  appeals 
to  the  ear,  and  the  arts  that  appeal  to  the  other 
senses,  or  rather  to  sight;  for  no  art  appeals  to  touch, 
taste,  or  smell.  In  the  objects  of  art  that  appeal  to 
the  eye,  we  have  expressions  of  passions  only  in  so  far 
as  they  affect  the  body,  whereas  in  music  we  have  their 
direct  expression  passing  from  soul  to  soul.  Yet 
persons  are  deeply  moved  by  statuary  and  painting, 
so  much  so  that  young  people  ought  not  to  be  allowed 
to  see  such  works  as  those  of  Pauson.  How  much 
more  then  must  they  be  moved  by  music!  “That 
they  are  so  is  quite  plain;  for  there  is  such  an  obvious 
difference  of  nature  between  harmonies  that  the  lis¬ 
teners  are  affected  in  entirely  different  ways  by  them. 
By  some  they  are  thrown  into  a  kind  of  mournful 
or  grave  mood,  e.g.,  by  what  is  known  as  the  mixed 
Lydian;  by  others  a  sentimental  turn  is  given  to  their 
thoughts,  for  example,  by  languid  harmonies;  while 
there  is  another  kind  that  especially  produces  balance 
of  feeling  and  collectedness.  This  effect  is  confined 
to  the  Doric  harmonies.  The  Phrygian  harmonies 
rouse  enthusiasm.  These  are  correct  results  arrived 
at  those  thinkers  who  have  devoted  their  attention 
to  this  branch  of  education,  —  results  based  upon 
actual  experience.  What  is  true  of  harmonies  is 
true  also  of  rhythms.  Some  of  these  have  a  steady, 
others  a  mobile,  character;  of  the  latter,  again,  some 
have  coarse,  others  refined,  movements.  From  all 
these  considerations,  it  is  obvious  that  music  is  cal- 


YEARS  FROM  SEVEN  TO  TWENTY-ONE  193 


ciliated  to  impart  a  certain  character  to  the  habit  of 
the  soul,  whence  it  follows  that  it  ought  to  be  brought 
to  bear  upon  children,  and  instruction  given  them  in 
it.  Musical  instruction,  indeed,  is  admirably  adapted 
to  their  stage  of  development  ;  for  young  people,  just 
because  they  are  young,  are  not  fond  of  persisting  in 
anything  that  does  not  give  them  pleasure,  and  music 
is  one  of  the  pleasant  things.  There  seems  even  to 
be  a  certain  kinship  between  harmonies  and  rhythms 
[and  the  soul] ;  whence  many  philosophers  hold  that 
the  soul  is  a  harmony,  or  that  it  has  harmony.” 

Aristotle,  having  thus'  shown  that  music  is  a  proper 
subject  of  instruction,  goes  on  to  inquire  “whether 
children  ought,  or  ought  not,  to  be  taught  music,  by 
being  taught  to  sing  and  play  themselves?”  His 
answer  is  well  worth  quoting  at  full  length.  “  It  is 
quite  evident,”  he  says,  “that  music  will  have  a  very 
much  greater  effect  in  moulding  people,  if  they  take 
part  in  the  performance  themselves.  Indeed,  it  is 
difficult,  or  even  impossible,  for  those  who  do  not 
learn  to  do  things  themselves  to  be  good  judges  of 
them  when  they  are  done.  At  the  same  time,  chil¬ 
dren  must  have  some  amusement,  and  we  may  look 
upon  Archytas’  rattle,  which  they  give  to  children  to 
spend  their  energies  upon,  and  to  prevent  them  from 
breaking  things  about  the  house,  as  a  good  invention. 
It  is  useless  to  try  to  keep  a  young  creature  quiet, 
and,  just  as  the  rattle  is  the  proper  thing  for  babies* 
so  musical  instruction  is  the  proper  rattle  for  older 
children.  It  follows  that  children  ought  to  be  taught 
music  by  being  made  to  produce  it  themselves,  and 
it  is  not  difficult  to  determine  either  what  is  suitable 


194 


ARISTOTLE 


and  unsuitable  for  different  ages,  or  to  answer  those 
people  who  pretend  that  the  study  of  music  is  some¬ 
thing  ungentlemanly.  In  the  first  place,  since  people 
must,  to  some  extent,  learn  things  themselves,  in 
order  to  form  a  correct  judgment  about  them,  they 
ought  to  learn  the  practice  of  them  while  they  are 
young,  so  that,  when  they  grow  up,  they  may  be  able 
to  dispense  with  it,  and  yet,  through  their  early 
studies,  be  able  to  judge  of  them  correctly  and  take 
the  proper  delight  in  them.  To  the  objections  which 
some  people  raise,  that  music  turns  people  into  crafts¬ 
men,  it  is  not  hard  to  find  an  answer,  if  we  consider  to 
v  hat  extent  the  practice  of  music  ought  to  be  required 
of  children  who  are  being  reared  in  the  civic  virtues, 
what  songs  and  rhythms  they  ought  to  learn,  and 
what  instruments  they  ought  to  use  —  for  this  makes  a 
difference.  Herein  lies  the  solution  of  the  difficulty. 
The  fact  is,  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  certain  kinds 
of  music  from  accomplishing  the  end  proposed. 

“It  is,  of  course,  obvious  that  the  acquisition  of 
music  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to  interfere  with 
future  usefulness,  to  impart  an  ignoble  habit  to  the 
body,  or  render  it  unfit  for  civic  duties,  —  either  for 
the  immediate  learning,  or  the  subsequent  exercise, 
of  them.  All  the  beneficial  results  of  musical  educa¬ 
tion  w  ould  be  attained,  if,  instead  of  going  into  a 
laborious  practice,  such  as  is  required  to  prepare 
people  for  public  exhibitions,  if  instead  of  trying  to 
perform  those  marvellous  feats  and  tours  de  force 
which  have  lately  become  popular  at  public  exhibi¬ 
tions,  and  passed  from  them  into  education,  the  chil¬ 
dren  were  to  learn  just  enough  to  enable  them  to  take 


YEARS  FROM  SEVEN  TO  TWENTY-ONE  195 

delight  in  noble  songs  and  rhythms,  instead  of  finding 
a  mere  undiscriminating  pleasure  in  anything  that 
calls  itself  music,  as  some  of  the  lower  animals  and 
the  bulk  of  slaves  and  children  do.  If  so  much  be 
admitted,  we  need  be  in  no  doubt  respecting  our 
choice  of  instruments.”  Aristotle  specially  condemns 
the  flute,  and  tells  how  it  came  into  use,  and  how  it 
v  as  afterwards  discarded,  as  exerting  an  immoral 
influence.  “  In  the  same  way  were  condemned  many 
of  the  older  instruments,  as  the  pectis,  the  barbitus, 
and  those  which  tended  to  produce  sensual  pleasure 
in  the  hearers  —  also  the  septangle,  the  triangle,  the 
sambuca,  and  all  those  requiring  scientific  manipula¬ 
tion.”  .  .  .  “We  would,  then,  condemn  all  profes¬ 
sional  instruction  in  the  nature  and  use  of  these 
instruments.  ‘Professional  ’  we  call  all  instruction 
that  looks  toward  public  exhibitions.  The  person 
who  receives  this  pursues  his  art,  not  with  a  view  to 
his  own  culture,  but  to  afford  a  pleasure,  and  that  a 
vulgar  one,  to  other  people.  For  this  reason  we  hold 
that  such  practice  is  not  proper  for  free  men,  but 
savors  of  meniality  and  handicraft.  The  aim,  indeed, 
for  which  they  undertake  this  task  is  an  ignoble  one. 
For  audiences,  being  vulgar,  are  wont  to  change  their 
music,  and  so  react  upon  the  character  of  the  profes¬ 
sionals  who  cater  to  their  tastes,  and  this  again  has 
its  influence  upon  their  bodies,  on  account  of  the 
motions  which  they  are  obliged  to  go  through.” 

Since  different  kinds  of  music  have  different  effects 
upon  the  habit  of  the  soul,  Aristotle  next  inquires 
what  kinds  are  suitable  for  education.  “We  accept,” 
he  says,  the  classification  made  by  certain  philoso- 


196 


ARISTOTLE 


pliers,  who  divide  songs  into  ethical,  practical,  and 
enthusiastic,  assigning  to  them  the  different  harmo¬ 
nies  respectively,  and  we  affirm  that  music  is  to  be 
employed,  not  for  one  useful  purpose  alone,  but  for 
several;  first,  for  instruction;  second,  for  purgation; 
and  third,  for  cultured  leisure,  for  relaxation,  and 
for  recreation.  It  is  obvious  that  all  harmonies  ought 
to  be  employed,  though  not  all  in  the  same  way. 
The  most  ethical  (i.e.  those  that  most  affect  the  ethos 
or  habit  of  the  soul)  must  be  employed  for  instruc¬ 
tion  ;  the  practical  and  enthusiastic  for  entertain¬ 
ments  by  professional  performers.  For  those  emotions 
which  manifest  themselves  powerfully  in  some  souls 
are  potentially  present  in  all,  with  a  difference  in 
degree  merely,  e.g.,  pity,  fear,  and  also  enthusiasm, 
a  form  of  excitement  by  which  certain  persons  are 
very  liable  to  be  possessed.  If  we  watch  the  effects 
of  the  sacred  songs,  we  shall  see  that  those  persons 
are  restored  to  a  normal  condition  under  the  influence 
of  those  that  solemnize  the  soul,  just  as  if  they  had 
undergone  medical  treatment  and  purgation.  The 
same  thing  must  happen  to  all  persons  predisposed  to 
pity,  fear,  or  emotion  generally,  as  well  as  to  others 
in  so  far  as  they  allow  themselves  to  come  within  the 
reach  of  any  of  these ;  for  them  all  there  must  exist 
some  form  or  another  of  purgation  and  relief  accom¬ 
panied  with  pleasure.  In  this  way  those  ‘purgative  ? 
songs  afford  a  harmless  pleasure,  and  it  is  for  this 
reason  that  there  ought  to  be  a  legal  enactment  to  the 
effect  that  performers  giving  public  concerts  should 
employ  such  harmonies  and  such  songs.  The  fact  is, 
since  there  are  two  kinds  of  public,  the  one  free  and 


YEARS  FROM  SEVEN  TO  TWENTY-ONE  197 


cultivated,  the  other  rude  and  vulgar,  composed  of 
mechanics,  laborers,  and  the  like,  there  must  be 
entertainments  and  'exhibitions  to  afford  pastime  to 
the  latter  as  well  as  the  former.  As  the  souls  of 
these  people  are,  so  to  speak,  perverted  from  the 
normal  habit,  so  also  among  the  harmonies  there  are 
abnormities,  and  among  songs  there  are  the  strained 
and  discolored;  and  each  individual  derives  pleasure 
from  that  which  is  germane  to  his  nature.  For  this 
reason  performers  must  be  allowed  to  produce  this 
kind  of  music,  for  the  benefit  of  this  portion  of  the 
public. 

“For  the  purposes  of  instruction,  as  has  been  said, 
we  must  employ  ethical  songs  and  the  corresponding 
harmonies.  Such  a  harmony  is  the  Doric,  as  has 
already  been  remarked.  We  must  likewise  admit 
any  other  species  of  music  that  may  have  approved 
itself  to  such  persons  as  have  devoted  attention  to 
philosophic  discussion  and  musical  education.  .  .  . 
In  respect  to  the  Doric  harmony,  it  is  universally 
admitted  to  be,  of  all  harmonies,  the  most  sedate, 
expressive  of  the  most  manly  character.  Moreover, 
since  our  principle  is,  that  the  mean  between  extremes 
is  desirable  and  ought  to  be  pursued,  and  the  Doric 
harmony  holds  this  relation  to  other  harmonies,  it 
follows  that  Doric  songs  should  be  taught  to  young 
people  in  preference  to  any  other.  Two  things,  how¬ 
ever,  must  be  kept  in  view,  the  practicable  and  the 
befitting.  I  mean  that  we  must  discuss  what  is  spe¬ 
cially  practicable  for  different  people,  as  well  as 
what  is  befitting.  This,  indeed,  will  depend  upon 
the  different  periods  of  life.  For  example,  it  would 


198 


ARISTOTLE 


not  be  easy  for  persons  in  tbe  decline  of  life  to  sing 
the  intense  harmonies;  for  them  nature  suggests  the 
languid  kinds.  For  this  reason  those  musicians  are 
right  who  blame  Socrates  for  having  condemned  the 
languid  harmonies,  as  subjects  of  instruction,  on  the 
ground  that  they  were  intoxicating.  (By  this  term 
he  did  not  mean  inebriating,  in  the  sense  that  wine  is 
inebriating,  —  for  wine  renders  boisterous  rather  than 
anything  else,  — but  languid.)  The  truth  is,  with  an 
eye  to  the  future,  to  old  age,  instruction  ought  to  be 
given  in  harmonies  and  songs  of  this  sort.  Moreover, 
if  there  is  any  harmony  suitable  for  youth,  as  tending 
to  refine  as  well  as  to  instruct,  as  is  the  case  notably 
with  the  Lydian,  it,  of  course,  ought  to  be  adopted. 
It  is  clear,  then,  that  there  are  three  distinct  things 
to  be  considered  in  reference  to  education,  avoidance 
of  extremes,  practicability,  and  appropriateness.5’ 

So  much  for  the  four  branches  of  study  which, 
according  to  Aristotle,  ought  to  compose  the  curric¬ 
ulum  of  youth.  We  have  noticed  that,  in  his  extant 
works,  he  says  little  about  Letters  and  Drawing.  Just 
what  branches  the  former  was  supposed  to  include,  he 
has  nowhere  told  us  directly;  but  I  think  there  can 
be  little  doubt  that  he  gave  a  place  to  Grammar, 
Rhetoric  (including  Poetics),  Dialectic,  Arithmetic, 
Geometry,  and  Astronomy,  which,  along  with  Music, 
make  up  the  Seven  Liberal  Arts,  the  Trivium  and 
Quadrivium  of  the  Middle  Ages.  This  curriculum 
underwent  considerable  changes  at  different  times,  as 
we  can  see  from  Philo,  Teles,  Sextus  Empiricus,  St. 
Augustine,  and  others;  but  in  Martianus  Capella  it 
returned  to  its  original  form,  and  in  this  dominated 


YEARS  FROM  SEVEN  TO  TWENTY-ONE  199 

education  for  a  thousand  years.  We  might  perhaps 

draw  out  Aristotle’s  programme  of  secondary  educa¬ 
tion  thus : — 


Studies  : 


Practical 


Creative 


Theoretic  < 


Physical 

(Dancing  (see  p.  82) 

^  Before 

Training 

( Deportment 

puberty. 

'Running 

Leaping 

Before 

< 

J  avelin-casting 
Discus-throwing 

puberty. 

Gymnastics  ■ 

Wrestling 

Shooting 

• 

Marching 

After 

( Music 

Drilling 

puberty. 

( Drawing 
Grammar 

Riding 

Rhetoric  J 

Dialectic  J 
Arithmetic  ' 

Before  puberty. 

Geometry 

After  puberty. 

.  Astronomy  . 

CHAPTER  VII 


EDUCATION  AFTER  TWENTY-ONE 

Be  assured  that  happiness  has  its  source,  not  in  extensive  pos¬ 
sessions,  hut  in  a  right  disposition  of  the  soul.  Even  in  the  case  of 
the  body,  no  one  would  call  it  fortunate  for  being  arrayed  in  splen¬ 
did  garments ;  but  one  would  do  so,  if  it  had  health,  and  were  nobly 
developed,  even  without  such  appendages.  In  the  same  manner,  we 
ought  to  ascribe  happiness  to  the  soul  only  when  it  is  cultivated, 
and  to  call  a  man  happy  only  if  he  possesses  such  a  soul,  not  if  he 
is  splendidly  attired  outwardly,  but  has  no  worth  of  his  own.  .  .  . 
For  those  whose  souls  are  ill-conditioned,  neither  wealth,  nor 
power,  nor  beauty  is  a  blessing ;  on  the  contrary,  the  more  exces¬ 
sive  these  conditions  are,  the  more  widely  and  deeply  do  they 
injure  their  possessors,  being  unaccompanied  with  right-mindedness. 
—  Aristotle. 

Zeno  used  to  tell  a  story  about  Crates,  to  this  effect:  One  day 
Crates  was  sitting  in  a  shoemaker’s  shop,  reading  aloud  Aristotle’s 
Exhortation  (to  Philosophy),  addressed  to  Tliemison,  king  of  the 
Cyprians,  in  which  the  king  is  reminded  that  he  possesses,  in  an 
exceptional  degree,  all  the  conditions  of  philosophy,  superabundant 
wealth,  and  high  position.  As  he  was  reading,  the  shoemaker, 
without  interrupting  his  sewing,  listened  to  him,  until  at  last  Crates 
said :  “  Philiscus,  I  think  I  will  write  an  Exhortation  for  you ;  for  I 
see  you  have  more  of  the  conditions  of  philosophy  than  Aristotle 
has  enumerated.”  —  Teles. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-one,  those  young  men  who 
have  successfully  completed  the  State  system  of  train¬ 
ing  become  citizens  or  politicians,  and  begin  to  exer¬ 
cise  the  functions  of  such.  These  are  of  two  kinds, 
(1)  active,  practical,  or  executive,  and  (2)  delibera¬ 
tive,  theoretical,  or  legislative.  As  action  must,  on 
200 


EDUCATION  AFTER  TWENTY-ONE 


201 


the  one  hand,  be  vigorous,  and,  on  the  other,  guided 
by  deliberation,  which  requires  large  experience,  the 
functions  of  the  State  must  be  so  arranged  that  the 
active  duties  fall  to  the  young  and  robust,  the  delib¬ 
erative  to  the  elderly  and  mature.  The  distinguishing 
virtue  of  the  former  is  fortitude,  with  endurance  or 
patience ;  that  of  the  latter  philosophy.  Both  equally 
have  self-control  and  justice.  In  this  way  does 
Aristotle  distribute  Plato’s  four  cardinal  virtues. 

When  young  men  first  become  citizens,  they  are 
assigned  to  posts  of  active  service,  civil  and  military, 
and  thus  study  practical  philosophy  —  Ethics  and 
Politics  —  in  a  practical  way.  As  they  grow  older, 
they  gradually  rise  to  posts  demanding  less  practice 
and  more  thought,  until  at  last  they  are  admitted  to 
the  deliberative  body,  or  council,  when  their  active 
duties  cease,  and  they  are  able  to  devote  themselves 
to  Speculative  Philosophy  or  Theoretics.  These  men 
have  now  reached  the  end  of  life,  as  far  as  this  world 
is  concerned.  They  spend  their  days  in  cultured 
leisure,  and  the  contemplation  of  divine  things 
(OewpCa) .  The  very  oldest  of  them,  those  who  are 
most  conversant  with  divine  things,  are  chosen  as 
priests,  so  that  they  may,  as  it  were,  live  with  the 
gods,  and  these  be  worthily  served.  Thus  gradually, 
almost  insensibly,  they  pass  from  the  world  of  time  to 
that  of  eternity;  from  the  imperfect  activity  of  prac¬ 
tice,  whose  end  is  beyond  itself,  to  the  perfect  energy 
of  contemplation,  which  is  self-sufficient  and  the  life 
of  God.  In  this  way  Aristotle  settles  the  vexed 
question  with  regard  to  the  compatibility  and  relative 
value  of  the  practical  and  the  contemplative  life. 


202 


ARISTOTLE 


They  are  necessary  complements  of  each  other.  Prac¬ 
tice  is  the  realization  of  what  contemplation  discovers 
in  the  pure  energy  of  God,  revealing  itself  in  the 
woild.  Thus  the  practical  life  of  man  glides  gradu¬ 
ally  into  the  contemplative  life  of  God. 

Such  is  the  highest  view  of  man’s  destiny,  and  the 
way  thither,  that  the  Greeks  ever  reached,  and  it  is  in 
many  ways  a  most  attractive  and  inspiring  one.  Its 
defects  are  the  defects  of  all  that  is  Greek.  They 
are  two :  (1)  its  ideal  is  intellectual  and  aesthetic,  — 
a  coordinated,  harmonious  whole,  whereof  the  indi¬ 
vidual  is  but  a  part :  not  moral  or  religious  - —  a  self¬ 
surrender  of  the  individual  to  the  supreme  will;  con¬ 
sequently,  (2)  it  does  not  provide  for  every  human 
being,  as  such,  but  only  for  a  small,  select  number, 
the  fruit  of  the  whole.  Its  ethics  are  institutional 
not  personal,  and,  indeed,  the  Greek  never  arrived  at 
a  distant  conception  of  personality,  that  being  pos¬ 
sible  only  through  the  moral  consciousness,  which  is 
its  core.  It  seeks  to  find  happiness  in  a  correlation 
and  balancing  of  individual  selves,  not  in  the  inde¬ 
pendent  conformity  of  each  self  to  a  supreme  self. 
Hence  it  was  that,  with  all  its  marvellous  grasp  and 
manly  prudence,  the  ideal  of  Aristotle  proved  power¬ 
less  to  restore  the  moral  unity  of  man,  until  it  was 
absorbed  in  a  higher. 


Book  IV 


THE  HELLENISTIC  PERIOD 

(B.c.  338-a.d.  313) 


CHAPTER  I 


FROM  ETHNIC  TO  COSMOPOLITAN  LIFE 

’Tis  Greece,  but  living  Greece  no  more.  —  Byron. 

Most  glorious  of  all  the  Undying,  many-named,  girt  round  with 
awe! 

Jove,  author  of  Nature,  applying  to  all  things  the  rndder  of  law  — 

Hail !  Hail !  for  it  justly  rejoices  the  races  whose  life  is  a  span 

To  lift  unto  Thee  their  voices  — the  Author  and  Framer  of  Man. 

For  we  are  Thy  sons ;  Thou  didst  give  us  the  symbols  of  speech  at 
our  birth, 

Alone  of  the  things  that  live,  and  mortal  move  upon  earth. 

Wherefore  Thou  shalt  find  me  extolling  and  ever  singing  Thy 
praise ; 

Since  Thee  the  great  Universe,  rolling  on  its  path  round  the  world, 
obeys : — 

Obeys  Thee,  wherever  Thou  guidest,  and  gladly  is  bound  in  Thy 
bands, 

So  great  is  the  power  Thou  confidest,  with  strong,  invincible  hands, 

To  Thy  mighty,  ministering  servant,  the  bolt  of  the  thunder,  that 
flies, 

Two-edged,  like  a  sword  and  fervent,  that  is  living  and  never  dies. 

All  nature,  in  fear  and  dismay,  doth  quake  in  the  path  of  its  stroke, 

What  time  Thou  preparest  the  way  for  the  one  Word  Thy  lips  have 
spoke, 

Which  blends  with  lights  smaller  and  greater,  which  pervadeth  and 
thrilleth  all  things, 

So  great  is  Thy  power  and  Thy  nature  —  in  the  Universe  Highest  of 
Kings ! 

On  earth,  of  all  deeds  that  are  done,  O  God  !  there  is  none  without 
Thee. 

In  the  holy  aether  not  one,  nor  one  on  the  face  of  the  sea ; 

Save  the  deeds  that  evil  men,  driven  by  their  own  blind  folly,  have 
planned ; 


205 


206 


ARISTOTLE 


But  things  that  have  grown  uneven  are  made  even  again  by  Thy 
hand ; 

And  things  unseemly  grow  seemly,  the  unfriendly  are  friendly  to 
Thee ; 

For  so  good  and  evil  supremely  Thou  hast  blended  in  one  by  decree. 
For  all  Thy  decree  is  one  ever  —  a  Word  that  endureth  for  aye, 
Which  mortals,  rebellious,  endeavor  to  flee  from  and  shun  to  obey — 
Ill-fated,  that,  worn  with  proneness  for  the  lordship  of  goodly  things, 
Neither  hear  nor  behold,  in  its  Oneness,  the  law  that  divinity  brings ; 
Which  men  with  reason  obeying,  might  attain  unto  glorious  life, 

No  longer  aimlessly  straying  in  the  paths  of  ignoble  strife. 

There  are  men  with  a  zeal  unblest,  that  are  wearied  with  following 
of  fame, 

And  men,  with  a  baser  quest,  that  are  turned  to  lucre  and  shame. 
There  are  men,  too,  that  pamper  and  pleasure  the  flesh  with  deli¬ 
cate  stings : 

All  these  desire  beyond  measure  to  be  other  than  all  these  things. 
Great  Jove,  all-giver,  dark-clouded,  great  Lord  of  the  thunderbolt’s 
breath ! 

Deliver  the  men  that  are  shrouded  in  ignorance,  dismal  as  death. 

O  Father  !  dispel  from  their  souls  the  darkness,  and  grant  them  the 
light 

Of  Reason,  Thy  stay,  when  the  whole  wide  world  Thou  rulest  with 
might, 

That  we,  being  honored,  may  honor  Thy  name  with  the  music  of 
hymns, 

Extolling  the  deeds  of  the  Donor,  unceasing,  as  rightly  beseems 
Mankind ;  for  no  worthier  trust  is  awarded  to  God  or  to  man 
Than  forever  to  glory  with  justice  in  the  law  that  endures  and  is 
One.  —  Cleanthes. 

The  distinguishing  characteristics  of  Hellenic  ed¬ 
ucation  were  unity,  comprehensiveness,  proportion, 
and  aimfulness.  It  extended  to  the  whole  human 
being,  striving  to  bring  the  various  elements  of  his 
nature  into  complete  harmony  in  view  of  an  end. 
This  end  was  the  State,  in  which  the  individual  citi¬ 
zen  was  expected  to  find  a  field  for  all  his  activities. 
We  have  seen  how,  while  conservative  Sparta  clung 


FROM  ETHNIC  TO  COSMOPOLITAN  LIFE  207 


to  this  ideal  to  the  last,  and  rigorously  excluded  those 
influences  which  tended  to  undermine  it,  Athens, 
by  freely  admitting  these,  gradually  broke  down  the 
fair  proportion  between  bodily  and  mental  education, 
in  an  excessive  devotion  to  the  latter,  and  so  came  to 
make  a  distinction  between  the  man  and  the  citizen. 
The  result  was  an  epidemic  of  individualism  which 
threatened  the  existence  of  all  that  was  Hellenic. 
Against  this  destructive  power  the  noblest  men  in  the 
nation,  an  flEschylus,  an  Aristophanes,  a  Pericles,  a 
Socrates,  a  Xenophon,  a  Plato,  an  Aristotle,  fought 
with  all  the  might  of  worth  and  intellect.  Some  of 
them  sought  once  more  to  remerge  the  man  in  the 
citizen  by  means  of  a  despotism  and  the  suppression 
of  all  intellectual  pursuits ;  others,  seeing  clearly  the 
impossibility  of  this,  tried  so  to  define  the  sphere  of 
the  individual  that  it  should  not  encroach  upon  that 
of  the  citizen,  but  stand  in  harmonious  relation  to 
it.  They  did  this  by  placing  the  sphere  of  the  indi¬ 
vidual  above  that  of  the  State,  and,  inasmuch  as  the 
former  was  a  purely  intellectual  sphere,  they  found 
themselves  driven  to  conclude,  and  to  lay  down,  that 
the  contemplative  life  is  the  end  and  consummation  of 
the  practical,  that  the  citizen  and  the  State  exist  only 
for  the  sake  of  the  individual.  They  were  very  far 
indeed  from  seeing  all  the  implications  of  this  con¬ 
clusion  :  these  showed  themselves  only  in  the  sequel ; 
but  the  fact  is,  that  the  principle  of  the  separation 
between  the  man  and  the  citizen,  and  the  assignment 
of  the  place  of  honor  to  the  former,  proved  at  once 
the  destroying  angel  of  Hellenism  and  the  animating 
spirit  of  the  civilization  which  took  its  place.  If  we 


208 


ARISTOTLE 


look  closely  at  the  schemes  of  Plato  and  Aristotle, 
we  shall  see  that  they  try  to  render  innocuous  the 
spirit  of  individualism  by  exhausting  its  activities  in 
intellectual  relations  to  the  divine,  offering  it  heaven, 
if  it  will  only  consent  to  relinquish  to  the  political 
spirit  its  earthly  claims.  They  practically  said:  Man, 
in  all  his  relations  to  his  fellow-men  here  below,  is  a 
citizen;  only  in  relation  to  God  is  he  an  individual. 
The  history  of  the  last  two  thousand  years  is  but  a 
commentary  on  this  text.  From  the  day  when  the 
master-mind  of  the  Greek  world  credited  man’s  nature 
with  a  divine  element  having  a  supreme  activity  of 
its  own,  European  thought  and  life  have  been  agitated 
by  three  questions,  and  largely  shaped  by  the  answers 
given  to  them :  (1)  What  is  the  nature  of  the  divine 
element  in  man?  (2)  In  what  form  or  institution 
shall  that  element  find  expression  and  realization? 
(3)  How  shall  that  institution  relate  itself  to  the 
State?  And  they  have  not  yet  been  definitely 
answered. 

Principles  that  are  to  move  the  world  are  never  the 
result  of  mere  abstract  thought,  but  always  of  a  crisis 
or  epoch  in  human  affairs.  And  so  it  was  in  the 
present  case.  The  separation  between  the  man  and 
the  citizen  was  accomplished  in  fact,  before  it  was 
formulated  in  theory.  On  the  other  hand,  the  theory 
received  emphasis  from  the  events  which  accompanied 
and  followed  its  promulgation.  The  battle  of  Chsero- 
nea,  which  took  place  sixteen  years  before  Aristotle’s 
death,  by  putting  an  end  forever  to  the  free  civic 
life  of  Greece,  removed  the  very  conditions  under 
which  the  old  ideal  could  realize  itself,  and  forced 


FROM  ETHNIC  TO  COSMOPOLITAN  LIFE  209 

men  to  seek  a  sphere  of  activity,  and  to  form  associ¬ 
ations,  outside  of  the  State.  The  State,  indeed,  still 
maintained  a  semblance  of  life,  and  the  old  education, 
with  its  literature,  gymnastics,  and  music  still  contin¬ 
ued;  hut  the  spirit  of  both  was  gone.  The  State  was 
gradually  replaced  by  the  philosophic  schools,  while 
intellectual  training  tended  more  and  more  to  concen¬ 
trate  itself  upon  rhetoric,  that  art  which  enables  the 
indi'v  idual  to  shine  beiore  his  fellows,  and  to  gain 
wealth  or  public  preferment.  From  this  time  on,  the 
spiritual  life  of  Greece  found  expression  in  the  pre¬ 
tentious,  empty  individualism  of  the  rhetorician,  the 
lineal  descendant  of  the  sophists,  and  in  the  philo¬ 
sophical  sects,  which  embodied  the  spirit  of  Socrates, 
their  opponent. 

The  founder  of  the  rhetorical  schools  may  be  said 
to  have  been  Isocrates,  who,  after  being  a  pupil  of 
Socrates’,  turned  against  the  philosophic  tendency, 
and  championed  elegant  philistinism.  The  aim  of 
these  schools  was  to  turn  out  clever  men  of  the  world, 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  popular  opinions  and 
motives,  and  capable  of  expressing  themselves  glibly, 
sententious ly,  and  persuasively  on  any  and  every  sub¬ 
ject.  They  usually  made  no  profession  of  imparting 
profound  learning  or  eliciting  philosophic  thought: 
indeed,  they  despised  both;  but  they  did  seek  to 
impart  such  an  amount  of  ordinary  knowledge  as  to 
place  their  pupils  in  the  chief  current  of  the  popular 
thought  of  their  time.  They  thus  became  the  bearers 
of  practical  education  among  a  people  who,  having 
lost  their  political  life  without  finding  any  higher, 
sought  to  obtain  satisfaction  in  social  intercourse. 


210 


ARISTOTLE 


For  hundreds  of  years  they  exerted  an  enormous  in¬ 
fluence,  and,  indeed,' at  certain  times  and  places  were 
formidable  rivals  of  the  philosophic  schools. 

The  first  man  of  Greek  race  who  attempted  to  found 
a  sect  or  school  outside  the  State  was  Pythagoras,  and 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  all  subsequent  schools  were 
in  some  degree  modelled  upon  his.  It  is  true  that 
the  Pythagorean  school  had  been  broken  up  and  dis¬ 
persed  long  before  the  days  of  Plato  and  Aristotle 
(see  p.  54);  nevertheless,  his  followers,  scattered 
over  Greece,  had  carried  with  them  the  ideas  and 
principles  of  their  master,  and  now  that  Athens  had 
fallen  into  the  condition  against  which  the  Pythag¬ 
orean  discipline  had  been  a  protest,  these  ideas  found 
a  ready  response  in  the  hearts  of  those  men  whom  the 
social  life  of  the  time  could  not  satisfy.  Hence  the 
schools  of  Plato  and  Aristotle,  which  had  originally 
been  mere  educational  institutions,  turned,  even  dur¬ 
ing  the  lifetime  of  the  latter,  into  sects  (alpio-as, 
heresies,  as  they  were  called  later  on),  with  definite 
sets  of  non-political  principles,  in  accordance  with 
which  their  members  tried  to  shape  their  lives.  It 
cannot  be  said  that  these  two  schools  were  in  any  high 
degree  successful,  and  the  reasons  were  that  they  were 
too  purely  intellectual,  that  they  made  no  striking 
revolt  against  political  life,  and  that  they  called  for 
a  type  of  man  not  easy  to  find.  But,  shortly  after 
the  death  of  Aristotle,  there  arose,  almost  contem¬ 
poraneously,  two  other  schools,  which  exerted  an 
influence,  deep  and  wide,  for  over  six  hundred  years. 
These  were  the  Epicurean  and  the  Stoic.  Widely  as 
these  differed  in  respect  to  means,  they  sought  the 


FROM  ETHNIC  TO  COSMOPOLITAN  LIFE  211 

same  end,  namely,  personal  independence,  and  they 
sought  it  by  conformity  to  laws  imposed  by  no  human 
legislator,  but  by  nature.  The  former  took  the  law 
of  the  senses,  the  latter  the  law  of  the  spirit,  for  its 
guide;  and,  by  a  strange  contradiction,  while  the 
former  championed  free  will,  the  latter  professed 
fatalism.  These  four  schools  were  the  only  ones  that 
ever  met  with  extensive  padronage  in  Athens,  and 
with  the  exception  of  the  Academic,  they  never 
diverged  far  from  the  principles  of  their  founders. 
In  the  time  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  after  Athens  had 
been  for  ages  a  mere  Roman  university,  they  were 
placed  under  State  patronage,  and  supported  by  public 
funds,  and  there  is  no  record  to  show  that  this  was 
discontinued  until  they  were  finally  closed  by  the 
Emperor  Justinian  in  a.d.  529. 

Not  long  after  the  death  of  Aristotle,  Athens  was 
supplanted  by  Alexandria,  as  the  centre  of  Greek 
influence.  Here  the  rhetorical  and  philosophic  schools 
established  themselves,  and  could  soon  boast  a  nu¬ 
merous  discipleship.  This,  however,  was  no  longer 
exclusively,  or  even,  mainly,  Greek,  but  was  recruited 
from  all  the  nations  of  the  known  world,  more  espe¬ 
cially  those  of  the  East.  Phoenicians,  Syrians,  Jews, 
Persians,  etc.,  not  to  speak  of  Egyptians,  now  became 
students  of  Greek  philosophy,  and  members  of  philo¬ 
sophic  sects,  whose  members  not  only  studied  together, 
but  often,  to  a  large  extent,  lived  together  in  com¬ 
munities.  About  the  year  b.c.  300  were  founded  the 
famous  Museum  and  Library  of  Alexandria  —  the  first 
university  and  the  first  public  library  in  the  world. 
Round  these  the  various  sects  gathered,  to  study,  to 


212 


ARISTOTLE 


discuss,  and  to  exchange  opinions.  Nor  was  it  Greek 
thought  alone  that  engaged  their  attention.  The  opin¬ 
ions  and  beliefs  of  Egypt  and  the  East  came  in  for 
a  share,  and,  in  the  end,  for  the  largest  share.  Nor 
is  this  wonderful,  when  we  consider  the  direction 
that  thought  and  life  were  then  taking. 

We  have  already  seen  that,  as  Greek  civic  life 
lost  the  conditions  of  its  existence,  the  thoughtful 
portion  of  the  people  came  more  and  more  to  seek  for 
life-principles  in  the  supersensible  world  of  intellect. 
The  nature  of  this  world  Plato  and  Aristotle  had  done 
their  best  to  reveal*.  But  the  event  proved  that 
neither  an  ordered  host  of  ideas  commanded  by  the 
Good,  nor  a  Supreme  Intelligence  served  by  a  host  of 
lower  intelligences,  could  yield  the  principles  which 
the  life  of  the  time  demanded;  and  thus  we  find  the 
philosophers  of  Alexandria  striving  to  people  their 
intelligible  world  with  forms  drawn  from  all  the 
religions  of  the  East,  including  Judaism.  Thus  there 
grew  up  the  various  forms  of  Alexandrine  philosophy, 
compounds  of  Greek  thought  and  Oriental  religion. 
On  the  basis  of  these  again  were  organized,  at  the 
same  time,  various  forms  of  social  life,  all  tending 
more  or  less  to  religious  communism.  Hence  came 
the  Essenes  (see  p.  59),  the  Therapeuts,  the  Neopy- 
thagoreans,  and  the  Neoplatonists,  all  of  whom,  not¬ 
withstanding  certain  shortcomings,  did  much  to  purify 
life,  and  to  pave  the  way  for  a  higher  civilization. 

In  b.c.  146,  Greece,  and,  in  b.c.  30,  Egypt,  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  Homans  and  thenceforth  formed 
provinces  of  their  empire.  Athens  and  Alexandria 
were  now  Homan  university -towns,  while  Home 


FliOM  ETHNIC  TO  COSMOPOLITAN  LIFE  213 

became  more  and  more  the  diffusing  centre  of  Greek 
and  Oriental  influence.  It  would  be  impossible,  in  a 
■ft  oik  like  the  present,  to  give  even  a  sketch  of  the 
forms  which  education  assumed  in  these  three  great 
centres,  or  in  the  world  that  revolved  round  them,  in 
the  six  hundred  and  more  years  that  passed  between 
the  loss  of  Greek  autonomy  and  the  triumph  of  Chris¬ 
tianity.  YVe  shall  merely  endeavor  to  give  a  general 
notion  of  its  two  chief  tendencies,  which,  as  we  saw, 
were  towards  rhetoric  and  philosophy;  and  we  shall 
do  this  in  connection  with  the  names  of  two  men, 
who  may  be  regarded  as  respectively  typical  of  the 
tv  o  tendencies,  Quintilian  the  rhetorician,  and  Plo¬ 
tinus  the  philosopher.  By  doing  so  we  shall  pave  the 

way  for  the  consideration  of  the  Rise  of  the  Christian 
Schools. 


CHAPTER  II 


QUINTILIAN  AND  RHETORICAL  EDUCATION 

Rhetoric  is  the  counterpart  of  Dialectic.  Both  have  for  their 
subjects  those  things  which,  in  a  certain  way,  are  matters  of  com¬ 
mon  knowledge,  and  belong  to  no  definite  science.  Hence  every¬ 
body,  in  some  degree,  is  gifted  with  them ;  for  everybody,  to  some 
extent,  tries  to  examine  and  sustain  an  argument,  to  defend  himself, 
and  to  accuse  others.  — Aristotle. 

There  is  a  certain  political  theory  which  is  made  up  of  many 
great  things.  A  large  and  important  part  of  it  is  artificial  elo¬ 
quence,  which  they  call  rhetoric.  — Cicero. 

Every  duty  which  tends  to  preserve  human  relations  and  human 
society  must  be  assigned  a  higher  place  than  any  that  stops  short 
with  knowledge  and  science.  —  Id. 

Zeno,  having  pressed  his  fingers  together  and  closed  his  fist,  said 
that  was  like  Dialectic;  having  spread  them  out  and  opened  his 
hand,  he  said  Eloquence  was  like  his  palm  there.  — Id. 

To  act  considerately  is  of  more  moment  than  to  think  wisely. — Id. 

I  pass  to  the  pleasure  of  oratorical  eloquence,  the  delight  of 
which  one  enjoys  not  at  any  one  moment,  but  almost  every  day  and 
every  hour.  — Tacitus. 

Grammar  is  an  experimental  knowledge  of  the  usages  of  lan¬ 
guage  as  generally  current  among  poets  and  prose  writers.  It  is 
divided  into  six  parts,  (1)  trained  reading  with  due  regard  to  prosody 
[i.e.  aspiration,  accentuation,  quantity,  emphasis,  metre,  etc.],  (2)  ex¬ 
position  according  to  poetic  figures  [literary  criticism],  (3)  ready 
statement  of  dialectical  peculiarities  and  allusions  [philology,  geog¬ 
raphy,  history,  mythology],  (4)  discovery  of  etymologies,  (5)  accu¬ 
rate  account  of  analogies  [accidence  and  syntax],  (6)  criticism  of 
poetical  productions,  which  is  the  noblest  part  of  the  grammatic  art 
[ethics,  politics,  strategy,  etc.]. —Dionysius  Thrax. 

214 


QUINTILIAN  AND  RHETORICAL  EDUCATION  215 

Reading  is  the  rendering  of  poetic  or  prose  productions  without 
stumbling  or  hesitancy.  It  must  he  done  with  due  regard  to 
expression,  prosody,  and  pauses.  From  the  expression  we  learn 
the  merit  of  the  piece,  from  the  prosody  the  art  of  the  reader,  and 
trom  the  pauses  the  meaning  intended  to  he  conveyed.  In  this  way 
we  read  tragedy  heroically,  comedy  conversationally,  elegiacs 
thnllingly,  epics  sustainedly,  lyrics  musically,  and  dirges  softly 
and  plaintively.  Any  reading  done  without  due  observance  of 
these  rules  degrades  the  merits  of  the  poets  and  makes  the  habits 
of  readers  ridiculous.  —Id. 

Some  arts  are  common,  others  liberal.  .  .  .  The  liberal  arts 
which  some  call  the  logical  arts,  are  astronomy,  geometry,  music! 

philosophy,  medicine,  grammar,  rhetoric.  -  Scholia  to  Dionysius 
Thrax. 

It  is  obvious  that  man  excels  the  other  animals  in  worth  and 
speech:  Why  may  we  not  hold  that  his  worth  consists  as  much  in 
eloquence  as  in  reason  ?  —  Quintilian. 

The  civil  man,  and  he  who  is  truly  wise,  who  does  not  devote 
himself  to  idle  disputes,  but  to  the  administration  of  the  common¬ 
wealth  (from  which  those  folks  who  are  called  philosophers  have 
farthest  withdrawn  themselves),  will  be  glad  to  employ  every 
available  oratorical  means  to  reach  his  ends,  having  previously 
settled  in  his  own  mind  what  ends  are  honorable.  —  Id. 

If  we  count  over  all  the  epochs  of  life,  we  shall  find  its  pains  far 
more  numerous  than  its  pleasures.  .  .  .  The  first,  that  of  baby¬ 
hood,  is  trying.  The  baby  is  hungry;  the  nurse  sends  it  to  sleep: 
it  is  thirsty;  she  washes  it:  it  wants  to  go  to  sleep;  she  takes  a 
rattle  and  makes  a  noise.  When  the  child  has  escaped  from  the 
nurse,  it  is  taken  hold  of  by  the  pedagogue,  the  physical  trainer, 
the  grammar-master,  the  music-master,  the  drawing-master.  In 
process  of  time,  there  are  added  the  arithmetic-master,  the  Geome¬ 
ter,  the  horse-breaker;  he  rises  early;  he  has  no  chance  for  leisure. 

e  becomes  a  cadet ;  again  he  has  to  fear  the  drill-master,  the  phys¬ 
ical  trainer,  the  fencing-master,  the  gymnasiarch.  By  all  these  he 
is  whipt,  watched,  throttled.  He  graduates  from  the  cadets  at 
twenty ;  again  he  dreads  and  wmtclies  captain  and  general  etc.  — 
Teles  the  Stoic  (b.c.  260). 

Ihe  palmy  period  in  the  history  of  Rome  is  the  period  when  she 
had  no  literature.  It  was  only  when  the  Roman  nationality  began 


216 


ARISTOTLE 


to  break  up,  and  cosmopolitan  Greek  tendencies  to  lay  hold  upon 
tlie  people,  that  a  literature  began  to  appear.  For  this  reason, 
Roman  literature  from  its  very  inception  is,  from  absolute  necessity, 
filled  with  the  Greek  spirit,  and  stands  in  the  most  direct  opposition 
to  the  national  spirit  of  the  people.  —  Mommsen. 

Quintiliane,  vagae  moderator  summe  juventae, 

Gloria  Romanae,  Quintiliane,  togae.  —  Martial. 

Up  to  the  time  when  Rome  began  to  decline,  the 
school  education  of  her  youth  was  meagre  in  the  ex¬ 
treme,  consisting  of  reading,  writing,  and  a  little  law. 
All  later  education  that  was  more  than  this  was  bor¬ 
rowed  from  the  Greeks.  It  was  about  the  year  200  b.c., 
at  the  close  of  the  Second  Punic  War,  that  their  in¬ 
fluence  began  clearly  to  show  itself.  The  severe  Cato, 
who  so  cordially  despised  rhetoricians  and  philoso¬ 
phers,  learnt  Greek  in  his  old  age  and  wrote,  for  the 
use  of  his  son,  a  series  of  manuals  on  ethics,  rhetoric, 
medicine,  military  science,  farming,  and  law.  At  the 
same  time  Scipio  Africanus  spent  his  leisure  hours  in 
practising  gymnastics.  Prom  this  time  on,  and  just 
in  proportion  as  Rome  lost  her  national  character  and 
became  cosmopolitan,  she  more  and  more  adopted 
Greek  manners,  Greek  religion  (or  irreligion),  and 
Greek  education.  When,  finally,  in  b.c.  146,  Greece 
became  a  Roman  dependency,  it  was  strictly  true  that 
“Captive  Greece  took  captive  her  rude  conqueror.” 
Thousands  of  Greek  schoolmasters,  rhetoricians,  phi¬ 
losophers,  etc.,  flocked  to  Rome,  and,  though  attempts 
were  made  to  expel  or  suppress  them,  they  held  their 
place,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  education  they 
offered  was  a  necessity  of  the  time.  Rome,  the  mis¬ 
tress  of  the  world,  had  either  to  become  cosmopolitan 


QUINTILIAN  AND  RHETORIC AL  EDUCATION  217 

or  perish,  and  she  preferred  the  former  alternative. 
She  now,  for  the  first  time,  began  to  have  a  literature 
and  to  cultivate  her  own  language.  The  studies  which 
she  specially  affected  were  (1)  grammar,  that  is,  liter¬ 
ature,  (2)  rhetoric,  (3)  philosophy,  which  corresponded 
to  school,  college,  and  university  education.  The  last, 
like  music  and  geometry,  was,  for  the  most  part,  an 
elegant  accomplishment,  rather  than  a  serious  study. 
The  physical  sciences  found  little  favor. 

So  long  as  Roman  education  was  in  the  hands 
of  Greeks,  it  was  conducted  in  the  Greek  language, 
and  the  authors  read  and  discussed  were  Greek.  But 
the  Romans,  though  willing  enough  to  borrow  Greek 
culture,  were  unwilling  to  remain  permanently  in  in¬ 
tellectual  dependence  upon  a  conquered  people,  which 
in  many  respects  they  despised.  Strong  efforts,  there¬ 
fore,  were  made  to  develop  a  national  literature  and  a 
national  education.  About  the  year  b.c.  100,  Lucius 
-dElius  Prseconinus  Stilo,  a  worthy  and  conservative 
Roman  knight,  opened  a  private  class  in  Latin  gram¬ 
mar  and  rhetoric  for  young  men  of  the  upper  classes, 
and  from  this  time  on  the  direct  influence  of  the 
Greeks,  except  in  philosophy,  declined.  Greek,  in¬ 
deed,  continued  to  be  spoken  by  all  persons  making 
any  pretensions  to  culture  j  but  Latin  became  the  lan¬ 
guage  of  Roman  literature.  Among  the  pupils  of  Stilo 
were  Yarro  and  Cicero,  who,  along  with  Julius  Caesar, 
may  be  called  the  parents  of  the  classical  Latin  lan¬ 
guage,  literature,  and  eloquence.  Both  Varro  and 
Caesar  wrote  works  on  grammar.  A  certain  Cornificius 
(generally  known  as  Auctor  ad  Herennium)  about  this 
time  wrote  the  first  Latin  treatise  on  Rhetoric;  but 


218 


ARISTOTLE 


the  great  authority  on  the  subject,  in  practice  as  well 
as  theory,  was  Cicero,  who  wrote  no  fewer  than  seven 
works  on  it.  With  Cicero’s  death,  and  the  transfor¬ 
mation  of  the  republic  into  an  empire,  eloquence  lost 
its  noblest  use,  the  defence  of  liberty.  Rhetoric, 
nevertheless,  continued  to  be  cultivated  as  a  fine*  art 
and  for  forensic  use,  and,  indeed,  was  made  to  cover 
the  whole  of  the  higher  education  of  youth.  Of  this 
art  the  most  celebrated  teacher  was  Quintilian,  “the 
supreme  director  of  giddy  youth,  the  glory  of  the 
Roman  toga”  (i.e.  civil  manhood). 

Quintilian  was  born  about  a.d.  35  in  the  Spanish 
city  of  Calagurris  (Calahorra),  where,  later,  St.  Dom¬ 
inic  first  saw  the  light.  He  was  educated  in  Rome, 
but  afterwards  returned  to  his  native  place  and  estab¬ 
lished  himself  as  a  teacher  of  rhetoric.  About  b.c.  68, 
he  was  invited  by  the  Emperor  Galba  to  settle  in 
Rome,  which  he  did,  giving  instruction  in  rhetoric 
with  unparalleled  success  for  twenty  years,  and  draw¬ 
ing  a  salary  from  the  government.  At  the  end  of  that 
time,  he  retired,  rich  and  honored,  into  private  life. 
It  was  after  this  that  he  wrote  the  work  which  carried 
his  fame  down  to  posterity,  his  Institutio  Oratorica,  or 
Education  of  the  Orator.  In  the  first  book  of  this  he 
draws  out  a  scheme  of  preparatory  education  for  the 
family  and  the  school ;  the  succeeding  ten  are  devoted 
to  rhetoric,  and  the  last  to  the  character  of  the  orator, 
whom  he  regards  as  identical  with  the  cultivated 
gentleman.  It  is  only  the  first  book  that  concerns 
the  modern  student  of  education,  and  of  this  I  shall 
now  give  a  brief  summary. 

The  first  care  of  the  parent,  after  the  birth  of  a 


QUINTILIAN  AND  RHETORICAL  EDUCATION  219 

child,  should  be  to  procure  for  it  a  nurse  of  good 
moral  character  and  of  cultivated  speech.  A  child 
that  early  learns  bad  habits  in  acting  and  speaking, 
rarely,  if  ever,  gets  cured  of  them  afterwards.  Great 
care  ought  to  be  taken  with  regard  to  the  child’s 
youthful  companions,  and  to  his  pedagogue,  who 
ought  to  be  of  good  character  and  well-informed. 
Its  first  language  ought  to  be  Greek  ;  but  Latin 
ought  to  be  begun  early,  and  both  to  be  carefully 
cultivated.  There  is  no  need  to  follow  the  ordinary 
custom  of  not  allowing  the  child  to  learn  to  read  or 
write  before  the  close  of  its  seventh  year.  Much  can 
very  profitably  be  done  by  play  long  before  that.  It 
is  a  mistake  to  teach  children  to  repeat  the  alphabet 
before  they  know  the  forms  of  the  letters.  These 
they  may  learn  from  tablets  or  blocks.  As  soon  as 
the  letters  are  recognized,  they  ought  to  be  written. 
Following  with  a  pen  the  forms  of  letters  engraved 
on  ivory  tablets  is  a  good  thing.  After  letters,  syl¬ 
lables  must  be  learnt  — all  the  possible  syllables  in 
both  languages.  After  syllables  come  words,  and 
after  words,  sentences.  In  all  this  process,  it  is  of 
the  utmost  importance  to  secure  thoroughness  by 
avoiding  haste.  The  child  must  not  attempt  words 
till  he  can  read  and  write  all  the  syllables,  nor  sen¬ 
tences  till  he  is  perfectly  familiar  with  words.  In 
reading  sentences,  he  must  learn  to  run  ahead,  so 
that,  while  he  is  pronouncing  one  word  with  his  lips, 
he  is  recognizing  others  with  his  eye.  The  writing 
lesson  should  be  utilized  in  order  to  make  the  child 
acquainted  with  rare  words  and  good  poetry.  At  this 
stage,  his  memory  ought  to  be  well  exercised,  and 


220 


ARISTOTLE 


made  to  lay  up  large  stores  of  good  literature  for 
future  use.  At  the  same  time,  his  organs  of  speech 
should  be  well  trained,  by  being  made  to  pronounce 
rapidly  verses  containing  difficult  combinations  of 
sound.1 

As  soon  as  he  is  able,  the  child  should  go  to  school. 
Home  education  is  objectionable  on  many  accounts, 
especially  for  boys  intended  for  orators.  These, 
above  all  others,  must  learn  sociability,  tact,  and 
esprit  de  corps,  and  form  school-friendships.  Many 
moral  lessons  can  be  learnt,  and  many  motives  em¬ 
ployed,  in  the  school,  that  are  not  possible  in  the 
family.  Among  the  latter  is  ambition,  which  “  though 
itself  a  vice,  is  the  parent  of  many  virtues,”  and 
therefore  ought  to  be  freely  used.  Hardly  any  motive 
is  so  powerful. 

When  a  boy  is  sent  to  school,  his  teacher’s  first 
business  is  to  investigate  his  character  and  capacity. 
The  chief  marks  of  ability  are  memory  and  power  of 
imitation.  Imitation  is  not  mimicry,  which  is  always 
a  sign  of  low  nature.  Slowness,  though  objectionable, 
is  better  than  precocity,  which  should  be  discouraged 
in  every  way.  Different  treatment  is  required  for 
different  boys :  some  need  the  bit,  some  the  spur.  The 
best  boy  is  the  one  “  whom  praise  excites,  whom  glory 
pleases,  who  cries  when  he  is  beaten.  Such  a  one 
may  be  nourished  with  emulation ;  reproach  will  sting 
him;  honor  will  rouse  him.”  Boys  ought  to  have 
seasons  of  rest  and  play,  neither  too  short  to  afford 
recreation,  nor  too  long  to  encourage  idleness.  Games 

1  Like  “Peter  Piper,”  etc.,  and  the  German  “Messwechsel 
Waclismaske.” 


QLINTILIAN  AND  RHETORICAL  EDUCATION  221 

of  question  and  answer  are  good  for  sharpening  the 
wits.  In  play  an  excellent  opportunity  is  offered  to 
the  teacher  for  learning  the  character  of  his  pupils. 
Corporal  punishment  is  altogether  to  be  deprecated, 

and,  indeed,  is  unneeded  when  the  teacher  does  his 
duty. 

TV  hat  boys  learn  in  school  is  grammar;  but  this 
must  be  supplemented  by  music  and  astronomy. 
Without  the  former  it  will  be  impossible  to  scan 
verse;  without  the  latter,  to  understand  certain  allu¬ 
sions  and  modes  of  fixing  dates  in  the  poets.  A  little 
philosophy  is  necessary  for  the  sake  of  understanding 
such  poets  as  Empedocles  and  Lucretius;  geometry, 
in  order  to  give  practice  in  apodictic  reasoning,  as 
well  as  for  practical  uses.  Thus  the  curriculum  of 
school  education  will  consist  of  Grammar,  Music,  As¬ 
tronomy,  Philosophy,  and  Geometry. 

Grammar  consists  of  two  parts,  (1)  Methodics,  or  the 
art  of  correct  speaking,  (2)  Histories  (German  Realien ), 
the  interpretation  of  poets,  historians,  philosophers, 

etc.  Methodics  —  grammar  in  the  modern  sense _ 

should  aim  at  enabling  a  boy  to  speak  and  write  with 
correctness,  clearness,  and  elegance.  All  barbarisms 
(i.e.  foreign  words  and  idioms),  solecisms,  affecta¬ 
tions,  and  careless  pronunciations  are  to  be  avoided. 
In  the  use  of  language,  four  things  are  to  be  taken 
into  account,  (1)  reason,  (2)  antiquity,  (3)  authority, 
(4)  custom.  In  reading,  the  boy  must  be  taught 
where  to  draw  his  breath,  where  to  divide  a  verse, 
wheie  the  sense  is  complete,  where  it  begins,  where 
the  voice  is  to  be  raised,  where  lowered,  what  inflec¬ 
tions  to  use,  what  is  to  be  uttered  slowly,  what  rapidly, 


222 


ARISTOTLE 


what  forcibly,  wliat  gently.”  “ That  he  may  be  able 
to  do  all  this,  he  must  understand.  Reading  must  above 
all  be  manly  and  grave,  with  a  certain  sweetness.” 
Poetry  must  not  be  read  either  as  prose,  nor  yet  in  a 
sing-song  way.  All  theatrical  personification,  and 
all  gesticulation  smacking  of  the  comedian,  are  to  be 
avoided. 

For  Histories  the  teacher  must  be  very  careful  in 
his  selection  of  texts.  Homer  and  Virgil  are  best  to 
begin  with.  Though  their  full  import  cannot  be  un¬ 
derstood  by  youth,  they  awake  enthusiasm  for  what  is 
noble  and  spirited,  and  will  often  be  read  in  later  life. 
“Tragedies  are  useful.  There  is  nourishment  in  the 
lyric  poets  ” ;  but  they  must  be  used  with  caution  and 
in  selections,  from  which  everything  relating  to  love 
must  be  excluded.  Even  Horace  must  be  expurgated. 
Satire  and  comedy,  though  of  the  utmost  value  for  the 
orator,  must  be  deferred  till  the  moral  character  is 
sufficiently  established  not  to  be  injured  by  them. 
Passages  from  the  poets  ought  to  be  committed  to 
memory.  In  all  reading,  the  utmost  care  ought  to  be 
taken  to  promote  purity  and  manliness  ( sanctitas  et 
v  inlitas') . 

After  reading  a  piece  of  poetry,  boys  must  be  made 
to  analyze  and  scan  it,  to  point  out  peculiarities  of 
language  and  rhythm,  to  enumerate  the  different  mean¬ 
ings  of  words,  to  name  and  explain  the  various  figures 
of  speech.  But  far  more  important  than  all  this  it  is, 
that  the  teacher  should  impress  on  their  minds  the 
importance  of  systematic  arrangement  and  propriety 
of  description,  “  showing  what  is  suitable  for  each  role, 
what  is  commendable  in  thought,  what  in  expression, 


QUINTILIAN  AND  RHETORICAL  EDUCATION  223 

where  diffuseness  is  proper,  and  where  brevity.”  In 
giving  collateral  information,  whether  in  history, 
mythology,  or  geography,  he  should  keep  within 
bounds,  giving  only  what  is  necessary  and  rests  on 
respectable  authority.  “  It  is  one  of  the  virtues  of  a 
schoolmaster  to  be  ignorant  of  some  things.” 

As  regards  lessons  in  composition,  the  teacher 
should  begin  by  making  his  pupils  write  out  from 
memory  the  Fables  of  iEsop,  in  pure,  simple,  direct, 
and  unadorned  language.  He  should  then  call  upon 
them  to  turn  poetry  into  prose,  and  to  paraphrase  it, 
either  briefly  or  diffusely.  He  should  then  make  them 
write  out  proverbs,  apophthegms,  aphorisms,  short, 
brilliant  anecdotes,  etc.  Famous  stories  related  by 
the  poets  may  be  used  as  subjects  for  composition, 
but  chiefly  for  the  sake  of  information.  Beyond  this 
the  schoolmaster  should  not  go  in  the  matter  of  com¬ 
position.  The  rest  should  be  left  to  the  rhetorician. 

It  is  of  great  importance  in  youthful  education  that 
several  subjects  should  be  studied  at  the  same  time. 
Boys  like  and  need  variety,  and,  when  they  get  it,  it 
is  truly  astonishing  how  much  they  can  accomplish. 
“  There  is  not  the  slightest  reason  for  fearing  that  boys 
will  shrink  from  the  labor  of  study.  Ho  age  is  less 
easily  fatigued.”  .  .  .  “Boys  are  naturally  more  in¬ 
clined  to  hard  work  than  young  men.” 

Such,  in  brief,  is  Quintilian’s  school-programme. 
It  has  no  place  for  physical  science  (except  Astron¬ 
omy),  for  manual  training,  or  for  physical  exercise. 
Play  is,  indeed,  permitted  as  a  necessary  recreation, 
and  gymnastics  and  physical  training  (TrcuSoT^eia)  are 
recommended  in  so  far  as  they  are  necessary  to  enable 


224 


ARISTOTLE 


the  budding  orator  to  move  and  to  gesticulate  grace¬ 
fully;  but  that  is  all.  “Nothing  can  please  that  is 
not  becoming.  ” 

As  soon  as  he  is  ready,  the  young  aspirant  for  ora¬ 
torical  fame  passes  into  the  hands  of  the  rhetorician, 
under  whom  he  learns  all  the  arts,  and  acquires  all 
that  knowledge,  necessary  to  fit  him  for  his  profession. 
No  kind  of  knowledge,  and  no  moral  excellence  ought 
to  be  foreign  to  the  orator.  Quintilian  is  very  severe 
upon  the  philosophers  for  claiming,  in  their  title,  to 
be,  in  an  exceptional  way,  lovers  of  wisdom,  and  main¬ 
tains  that  the  true  orator  is  the  truly  wise  and  good 
man.  He  is  surely  superior  to  the  philosopher,  who 
turns  his  back  upon  the  world  and  manifests  no  in¬ 
terest  in  human  affairs.  Moreover,  “  philosophy  may 
be  simulated;  eloquence  cannot.” 

The  closing  chapter  of  the  last  book  of  Quintilian’s 
work  treats  of  the  orator  after  his  retirement  from 
public  life.  He  is  to  devote  himself  to  writing  and  to 
the  study  of  art,  science,  and  philosophy.  The  picture 
is  charming;  but  it  ends  with  death,  and  there  is 
nothing  beyond.  God  may  be  defined  for  oratorical 
purposes ;  but  his  existence  is  a  matter  of  conjecture. 

In  Quintilian  we  have  the  highest  type  of  the  civic 
man  living  under  a  cosmopolitan  despotism.  His 
defects  —  his  pedantry,  his  servility,  his  externality, 
his  worldliness  —  are  only  such  as  are  natural  to  a 
good  man  placed  in  this  position,  without  any  outlook 
upon  a  higher  existence. 


CHAPTER  III 


PLOTINUS  AND  PHILOSOPHIC  EDUCATION 

The  material  body,  which  is  subject  to  motion,  change,  disso¬ 
lution,  and  division,  requires  an  immaterial  principle  to  hold  and 
bind  it  together  in  unity.  This  principle  of  unity  is  the  soul.  If  it 
were  material,  it  would  require  another  principle  of  unity,  and  so 
on  ad  infinitum,  till  an  immaterial  first  were  reached,  which  would 
then  be  the  true  soul.  —  Ammonius  Saccas. 

Intelligible  things,  when  they  are  united  with  other  things,  are 
not  changed,  as  corporeal  things  are  when  they  are  united  with 
each  other,  but  remain  as  they  are,  and  what  they  are.  Soul  and 
body  are  intimately  united,  but  not  mixed.  The  soul  can  separate 
and  withdraw  itself  from  the  body,  not  only  in  sleep,  but  also  in 
thought.  As  the  sun  illuminates  and  yet  remains  itself  a  separate 
light,  so  is  the  soul  in  its  relation  to  the  body.  It  is  not  in  the  body 
as  in  place ;  rather  the  body  is  in  it  and  of  it.  —  Id. 

One’s  duty  is  to  become  first  man,  then  God.  —  Hierocles. 

Neither  Schelling  nor  Baader  nor  Hegel  has  refuted  Plotiuus :  in 
many  ways  he  soars  above  them.  —  Arthur  Richter. 

What  is  loved  by  us  here  is  mortal  and  hurtful.  Our  love  is  love 
for  an  image,  that  often  turns  into  its  opposite,  because  what  we 
loved  was  not  truly  worthy  of  love,  nor  the  good  which  we  sought. 
God  alone  is  the  true  object  of  our  love.  —  Plotinus. 

The  practical  and  the  contemplative  lives,  which 
Plato  and  Aristotle  had  labored  so  hard  to  combine 
and  correlate,  in  order  to  save  human  worth  and  Greek 
civilization,  fell  asunder,  despite  all  their  efforts  — 
greatly,  of  course,  to  the  detriment  of  both.  In  the 
terrible  picture  which  Quintilian  draws  of  Roman  life 

225 


226 


ARISTOTLE 


in  the  first  century  of  our  era,  we  see  one  side  of  the 
result  of  this  divorce :  in  the  cruel  satires  of  Lucian, 
written  less  than  a  century  later,  we  may  find  depicted 
the  other.  But,  just  as,  in  the  midst  of  the  moral 
corruption  and  brutality,  there  arose  from  time  to 
time  worthy  men  like  Quintilian  and  Tacitus,  so  amid 
the  philosophical  charlatanry  and  pretence,  there 
still  survived  a  few  earnest  thinkers,  who  aspired 
with  all  the  power  that  was  in  them  to  divine  truth, 
and  strove  to  find  in  the  eternal  world  that  reality 
which  was  so  miserably  wanting  in  this.  By  far  the 
greater  number  of  these  men  were  neither  Greeks  nor 
Bomans,  but  Orientals,  men  whose  thinking  combined 
Greek  philosophy  with  some  earnest  form  of  Eastern 
mysticism.  To  such  men  this  life  was  merely  an 
opportunity  of  preparing  for  a  higher,  in  which  lay 
all  beauty,  all  good,  and  all  blessedness.  It  is  not 
difficult  to  see  what  sort  of  education  would  follow 
from  this  view  of  life.  It  may  best  be  characterized 
by  the  one  word  “ ascetic.”  It  no  longer  seeks  to 
train  harmoniously  all  the  faculties  of  body  and  mind 
with  a  view  to  a  worthy  social  life,  but  to  enable  the 
soul  to  die  to  the  body  and  to  social  life,  and  so  rise 
to  union  and  consubstantiality  with  God.  In  no  sect 
was  this  tendency  more  marked  than  in  the  Neo¬ 
platonic,  or,  as  it  might  equally  well  be  called,  the 
Neoaristotelian  or  Neopythagorean,  the  greatest  name 
in  which  is  Plotinus. 

Plotinus  was  born  in  Egypt  about  a.d.  205.  His 
nationality  is  unknown.  He  received  his  education 
in  Alexandria  —  grammar,  rhetoric,  and  philosophy, 

' —  and  adopted  the  teaching  of  the  last  as  a  profession. 


PLOTINUS  AND  PHILOSOPHIC  EDUCATION  227 

He  sought  in  vain,  however,  for  a  system  that  could 
satisfy  him,  till  he  met  with  Ammonius  “the  Sack- 
bearer,”  whom  he  at  once  recognized  as  his  master. 
This  Ammonius  had  been  reared  as  a  Christian,  but 
had  apostatized  on  becoming  acquainted  with  philos¬ 
ophy.  His  Christian  education,  however,  had  not 
been  altogether  lost  on  him;  for  he  had  carried  over 
into  philosophy  a  religious  spirit,  and  not  a  few  of  the 
esoteric  ideas  then  current  in  certain  Christian  sects. 
It  was  this,  apparently,  that  enabled  him  to  give  a 
new  direction  to  philosophy,  and  to  found  a  new 
school,  whose  influence  upon  subsequent,  even  Chris¬ 
tian,  thought,  it  would  be  difficult  to  overestimate. 
His  school  was  the  Neoplatonic,  which,  more  than 
any  other,  united  profound  thought  with  mystic 
theosophy  (OewpLa). 

Plotinus  listened  to  Ammonius  for  eleven  years, 
and,  on  the  death  of  the  latter,  paid  a  visit  to  Persia, 
with  the  view  of  studying  the  religion  of  that  country. 
He  shortly  returned,  however,  and,  after  a  brief 
sojourn  at  Antioch,  betook  himself,  in  his  fourtieth 
year  (a.d.  244),  to  Pome,  where  he  spent  the  re¬ 
mainder  of  his  life  as  a  teacher  of  philosophy.  His 
saintly  character  and  his  deep,  religious  thought  drew 
round  him  a  considerable  number  of  earnest  men  and 
women,  including  even  members  of  the  imperial 
family.  He  made  some  attempt  to  found  in  Cam¬ 
pania  a  Platonopolis,  so  that  his  principles  might  be 
realized  in  a  social  life,  in  a  theosophic  community; 
but  this  was  never  carried  out.  He  died  in  a.d.  270. 
Plotinus  was  the  only  truly  great,  original  ancient 
thinker  after  Aristotle. 


228 


ARISTOTLE 


While  Plato  and  Aristotle  had  sought  to  rise  to  the 
intelligible  world  from,  and  by  means  of,  the  sensible, 
Plotinus,  believing  that  he  has  attained  a  direct, 
intuitional  knowledge  of  the  former,  sets  out  from  it 
and  thence  tries  to  reach  the  other.  At  the  summit 
of  being  he  finds  the  supreme  Platonic  principle,  the 
One  or  the  Good,  absolutely  transcendent  and  self- 
sufficient;  next  below  this,  the  supreme  Aristotelian 
principle,  Intelligence  or  Absolute  Knowing,  the  locus 
of  all  ideas ;  and  third,  the  supreme  principle  of  the 
Stoics,  Soul,  Life,  or  Zeus,  the  animating  principle 
of  the  world.  Good,  Intelligence,  Life  —  these  are 
Plotinus7  divine  trinity,  evolved  by  a  process  of 
abstraction  from  the  Nous  of  Aristotle  (see  p.  161). 
The  members  of  this  trinity  are  neither  personal, 
conscious,  nor  equal.  Each  lower  is  caused  by,  but 
does  not  emanate  from,  the  next  above  it;  and  this 
causation  is  due,  not  to  any  act  of  free  will,  but  to 
an  inner  necessity.  Thus  the  trinity  of  Plotinus  is 
a  mere  energy,  acting  according  to  necessary  laws. 
The  third  member  of  it  turns  toward  matter,  which  is 
mere  poverty  and  hunger  for  being,  and,  in  so  doing, 
produces  a  world  of  gods,  daemons,  and  mundane 
beings,  the  highest  of  which  last  is  man.  All  that 
has  matter  has  multiplicity. 

It  is  easy  enough  to  see  what  kind  of  ethics  and 
education  will  spring  from  such  a  system  as  this. 
Inasmuch  as  the  good  means  self-sufficiency,  freedom 
from  multiplicity  and  matter,  evil  means  dependence, 
multiplicity,  materiality.  Whatever  evil  there  is  in 
man  is  due  to  his  connection  with  matter,  for  which 
he  is  in  no  sense  responsible.  His  sole  business,  if 


PLOTINUS  AND  PHILOSOPHIC  EDUCATION  229 

he  desires  blessedness,  is  to  free  himself  from  matter 
and  multiplicity,  and  return  to  the  unity  of  the 
Supreme  Good.  The  steps  by  which  this  may  be 
accomplished  are,  (1)  Music  or  Art,  (2)  Love,  (3) 
Philosophy  or  Dialectic:  through  all  these  he  rises 
above  multiplicity  into  unity.  In  all  this  there  is, 
obviously,  neither  moral  evil  nor  moral  good,  and, 
indeed,  the  world  of  Plotinus  contains  no  moral  ele¬ 
ment,  for  the  simple  reason  that  it  contains  nothing 
personal,  either  in  God  or  man.  Evil  is  the  product 
of  necessity,  and  consciousness,  implying  as  it  does, 
multiplicity,  is  part  of  it.  The  unethical  character 
of  Plotinus’  teaching  comes  out  very  clearly  in  his 
reversal  of  the  positions  of  instruction  and  purgation 
in  the  scheme  of  education.  According  to  the  old 
view,  purgation  was  a  mere  medical  process,  prepara¬ 
tory  to  ethical  training  (see  p.  7).  According  to 
the  Neoplatonic  view,  ethical  training  and  the 
“  political  virtues  ”  are  a  mere  preparation  for  purga¬ 
tion  and  the  intellectual  virtues.  And  this  is  per¬ 
fectly  logical ;  for  evil,  being  physical,  must  be  cured 
by  physical  means.  And  the  means  which  Plotinus 
recommends  are  magical,  rather  than  moral;  rites 
and  prayers,  rather  than  heroic  deeds;  the  suppres¬ 
sion  of  the  will,  rather  than  its  exercise. 

Plotinus  is  too  much  of  a  Greek  to  accept,  or  even 
see,  all  the  consequences  of  his  own  theory,  which 
makes  moral  life  consist  in  an  attempt  to  escape  from 
the  world  and  to  quench  consciousness  and  personality. 
Accordingly,  though  he  has  a  poor  opinion  of  civic 
life  (a  thing  excusable  enough  in  those  days),  he 
believes  that  the  civic  virtues  ought  to  be  cultivated, 


230 


ARISTOTLE 


as  a  means  toward  the  higher,  and  has  apparently 
nothing  to  say  against  the  ordinary  grammatical, 
rhetorical,  and  musical  education  of  his  time.  He  has 
a  good  deal  to  say  in  favor  of  Mathematics,  as  a  prep¬ 
aration  for  what  to  him  is  the  supreme  branch  of 
education,  Dialectics.  But  the  tendency  of  his  teach¬ 
ing  is  only  too  obvious,  and  the  conclusions  which  he 
did  not  draw,  time  and  succeeding  generations  drew 
for  him.  The  effect  of  Neoplatonism  was,  in  the 
long  run,  to  make  the  super-civic  part  of  man  the 
whole  man,  to  discredit  political  life  and  political 
effort,  and  to  pave  the  way  for  the  mystic,  the  ascetic, 
and  the  hermit.  Nor  were  the  tendencies  of  the  other 
philosophical  schools  in  any  marked  degree  different. 
Thus  philosophy,  instead  of  contributing  to  harmonize 
man  and  society,  and  to  restore  moral  life,  came  to  be 
one  of  the  strongest  agencies  in  bringing  about  con¬ 
fusion  and  dissolution,  by  ignoring  moral  life  alto¬ 
gether,  embracing  superstition,  and  turning  man  into 
a  mere  plaything  of  blind  necessity  and  magical 
forces.  And  thus  ancient  civilization  fell  to  pieces, 
because  man  himself  had  fallen  to  pieces,  and  each 
piece  tried  to  set  itself  up  for  the  whole.  The  civic 
fragment  finds  its  highest  expression  in  Quintilian, 
the  super-civic  in  Plotinus.  Ere  the  fragments  can  be 
united  into  a  truly  moral  being,  a  member  of  a  truly 
moral  society,  a  new  combining  force,  unknown  to 
either  rhetorician  or  philosopher,  must  arise. 


CHAPTER  IY 


CONCLUSION 

Truly  it  was  an  old  world,  and  even  Caesar’s  patriotic  genius  was 
not  enough  to  make  it  young  again.  The  dawn  does  not  return 
till  the  night  has  fully  set  in.  —  Mommsen. 

My  thoughts  are  not  your  thoughts,  neither  are  your  ways  my 
ways,  saith  the  Lord. —  Isaiah. 

Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with 
all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind.  This  is  the  great  and  first 
commandment.  And  a  second  like  unto  it  is  this,  Thou  shalt  love 
thy  neighbor  as  thyself. — Jesus. 

Render  unto  Caesar  the  things  that  are  Caesar’s,  and  to  God  the 
things  that  are  God’s.— id. 

Are  not  five  sparrows  sold  for  two  farthings?  and  not  one  of 
them  is  forgotten  in  the  sight  of  God.  But  the  very  hairs  of  your 
head  are  all  numbered.  —  Id. 

We  love  because  he  first  loved  us.  If  a  man  say,  I  love  God,  and 
liateth  his  brother,  he  is  a  liar.  —  John. 

By  one  intelligible  form,  which  is  the  divine  Essence,  and  one 
conscious  intention,  which  is  the  divine  Word,  things  maybe  known 
in  their  multiplicity  by  God.  —  Thomas  Aquinas. 

If  God  acts  in  all  things,  and  such  action  in  no  way  derogates  from 
his  dignity,  hut  even  belongs  to  his  universal  and  supreme  power,  he 
cannot  consider  it  below  him,  nor  does  it  stain  his  dignity,  if  he  ex¬ 
tend  his  providence  to  the  individual  things  of  this  world.  — Id. 

Une  immense  esperance  a  passe  sur  la  terre.  —  Alfred  de 
Musset. 

We  have  seen  that  the  Greek  ideal  of  life  rested 
upon  the  complete  identification  of  the  man  with  the 
citizen.  We  have  seen  also  how  this  ideal  was  para- 

231 


232 


ARISTOTLE 


lyzed  by  the  growth  of  individualism;  how  the  wisest 
men  thought  to  render  this  innocuous  and  even  benef¬ 
icent,  by  providing  for  it  a  sphere  of  contemplation, 
superior  to  that  of  practice,  but  organically  related  to 
it,  and,  finally  how,  with  the  failure  of  this  attempt, 
the  two  sides  of  human  nature,  divorced  from  each 
other,  degenerated,  the  one  into  selfish  worldliness, 
the  other  into  equally  selfish  other-worldliness,  both 
conditions  equally  destitute  of  moral  significance. 

This  sad  result  was  mainly  due  to  three  causes, 
(1)  that  the  remedies  proposed  for  individualism  were 
not  sufficient,  (2)  that  the  best  remedy  was  set  aside, 
(3)  that  the  conditions  for  which  the  remedies  were 
offered  soon  ceased  to  exist.  Both  Plato  and  Aris¬ 
totle  wrote  for  the  small  Greek  polities,  which  lost 
their  autonomy  through  the  Macedonian  conquest. 
If  it  may  be  doubted  whether  even  the  proposals  of 
the  latter  would  have  redeemed  these  polities,  had 
they  continued  free,  it  is  certain  that  they  would  have 
been  ineffective  under  the  changed  circumstances.  At 
all  events,  they  were  never  adopted,  and  even  for  the 
super-civic  man  the  teaching  of  Plato  was  preferred 
to  his. 

As  the  new  cosmopolitanism  deepened  the  gulf  be¬ 
tween  the  citizen  and  the  individual,  and  immeasurably 
widened  the  sphere  of  the  latter,  in  the  same  propor¬ 
tion  did  the  teaching  of  Plato  fail  to  bridge  over  that 
gulf,  and  provide  activity  for  that  sphere.  To  tell  the 
super-civic  man  now  that  his  function  was  to  contem¬ 
plate  divine  things  and  oracularly  deliver  laws  for  the 
guidance  of  the  world,  would  have  argued  an  absence 
of  humor  not  common  in  those  days.  Besides,  those 


CONCLUSION 


233 


persons  who  claimed  to  have  contemplated  divine 
things  showed  no  such  fitness  for  legislation  as  to  in¬ 
duce  practical  men  to  accept  their  guidance.  The 
sober  fact  was,  that  the  contemplation  of  divine  things, 
which  more  and  more  absorbed  the  energy  of  Greek 
thought,  was,  except  for  Aristotle,  a  mere  vague  asper- 
ation  without  moral  value,  and  became  ever  more  a 
sort  of  mystic  ecstasy,  in  which  the  individual,  instead 
of  acquiring  insight  and  power  to  live  worthily  and 
beneficently  in  the  world,  was  thrown  back  upon  him¬ 
self,  with  his  will  paralyzed.  Nor  could  this  be  other¬ 
wise,  seeing  the  nature  of  the  divine  things,  the 
contemplation  of  which  was  reckoned  so  important. 
Instead  of  being  personal  attributes,  or  a  person  im¬ 
posing  a  moral  law  seen  to  be  binding,  they  were  mere 
abstractions,  increasing  in  emptiness  the  higher  they 
were  in  the  series,  the  highest  being  absolute  vacancy. 
In  vain  had  Aristotle  protested  that  all  reality  is  in¬ 
dividual:  the  Platonic  theory,  that  all  knowledge  is 
of  ideas  or  universals,  prevailed,  with  the  result  that 
the  highest  knowledge  was  held  to  be  knowledge  of 
that  which  is  absolutely  universal,  viz.  indeterminate 
being  or,  as  Plotinus  held,  something  lacking  even 
the  determination  of  being  —  the  Supreme  Good.  That 
the  super-civic  man  should  find  satisfaction  in  gazing 
into  vacancy,  or  be  any  more  valuable  in  the  world 
after  he  had  done  so,  no  matter  how  spotless  his  life 
and  ecstatic  his  look,  is  inconceivable. 

But  while,  in  the  Greek  world,  the  sphere  of  activity 
of  the  super-civic  man  was  vanishing  into  nothing¬ 
ness,  among  a  small  and  obscure  band  of  restored 
exiles  of  Semitic  race,  that  sphere  had  come  to  claim 


234 


ARISTOTLE 


the  entire  man  and  all  his  relations,  practical  and 
spiritual.  Isaiah’s  little  band  of  faithful  followers 
(see  p.  133)  had  grown  into  a  nation,  living  by  no  law 
save  that  of  Jehovah,  a  very  real,  very  awful,  and 
very  holy  personality,  whom  the  heaven  of  heavens 
could  not  contain,  but  who  yet  watched  the  rising  up 
and  the  sitting  down  of  every  son  of  man.  Long  be¬ 
fore  Quintilian  wrote  his  elegant  treatise  on  rhetoric, 
01  Plotinus  his  pantheistic  Enneads,  there  had  sprung 
fiom  the  bosom  of  this  people  a  man  who,  bursting, 
at  the  expense  of  his  life,  the  narrow  bounds  of  his 
nationalty,  elevated  the  theocracy  of  his  people  into 
a  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  which  he  had  bade  proclaim 
to  all  the  world.  It  was  proclaimed,  and  then  (though 
to  some  it  seemed  a  stumbling-block,  and  to  others 
foolishness)  the  super-civic  man,  who  for  hundreds  of 
years  had  been  wandering  in  darkness,  in  search  of  his 
fatherland,  suddenly  became  aware  that  he  had  found 
it  in  the  Church  of  Christ.  He  now  no  longer  tries  to 
escape  from  the  visible  world  into  the  emptiness  of 
an  abstract  first  principle ;  but,  in  the  service  of  a  First 
Principle  who  is  the  most  concrete  of  realities,  and 
who  numbers  the  very  hairs  of  his  head,  he  goes  down 
into  the  most  loathsome  depths  of  the  material  world 
to  elevate  and  redeem  the  meanest  of  the  sons  of  men. 
There  is  no  question  of  bond  or  free,  ruler  or  ruled, 
now.  In  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  there  are  no  such 
relations.  The  only  greatness  recognized  there  is 
greatness  in  service;  the  only  law,  the  Law  of  Love. 
Love !  yes,  the  whole  secret  is  in  that  one  word.  By 
adding  love  to  the  conception  of  the  God  of  his  peo- 
ple,  by  exemplifying  it  in  his  own  life,  and  demanding 


CONCLUSION 


235 


it  of  his  followers,  J esus  accomplished  what  had  baffled 
all  the  wisdom  of  the  Greek  sages.  He  restored  the 
moral  unity  of  man,  abolished  the  old  world,  and  made 
a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth.  In  vain  have  the 
advocates  of  an  indeterminate,  self-evolving  first 
principle,  whether  calling  themselves  Neoplatonists, 
mystics,  materialists,  evolutionists,  Hegelians,  or 
Theosophists,  striven  to  bring  back  the  old  world 
with  its  class  distinctions  and  institutional  ethics;  in 
vain  have  they  sought  to  sink  the  individual  God  and 
man  of  reality  in  the  universal  ideas  of  thought.  The 
Law  of  Love,  which  is  the  ground  of  individuality,  as 
well  as  of  true  society,  has  bidden,  and  will  bid  them, 
defiance. 


APPENDIX 


> 


APPENDIX 


THE  SEVEN  LIBERAL  ARTS 

The  Greeks  originally  recognized  two  branches  of 
liberal  education1  (1)  Gymnastics,  for  the  body,  and 
(2)  Music,  for  the  soul.  Out  of  music  grew,  in  process 
of  time,  not  only  the  so-called  Liberal  Arts,  that  is, 
the  arts  that  go  to  constitute  the  education  of  every 
freeman,  but  also  what  was  regarded  as  a  superfluous 
luxury  (TreptrTT/),  Philosophy.  It  is  the  purpose  of 
this  appendix  to  trace,  as  far  as  possible,  this  gradual 
development. 

In  doing  so,  one  must  bear  in  mind  that  originally 
the  term  “  Music  ”  covered,  not  only  what  we  call 
music,  but  also  poetry,  and  that  poetry  was  the  vehicle 
of  all  the  science  that  then  was.  The  Homeric  aoidos 
knows  the  “  works  of  gods  and  men.”  Strictly  speak¬ 
ing,  therefore,  it  was  out  of  music  and  poetry  that  all 
the  arts  and  sciences  grew.  The  first  step  in  this 
direction  was  taken  when  Letters  were  introduced, 
that  is,  about  the  first  Olympiad.2  But  it  was  long 
before  Letters  were  regarded  as  a  separate  branch  of 
education;  they  were  simply  a  means  of  recording 
poetry.  Even  as  late  as  the  time  of  Plato,  Letters 
are  still  usually  included  under  Music.  In  Aristotle, 
they  are  recognized  as  a  separate  branch.  It  follows 

1  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  Greek  rexvy,  art,  corresponds 
almost  exactly  to  what  we  mean  by  “science.”  It  is  defined  by 
Aristotle,  Metaph.,  A.  1 ;  981  a  5  sqq.  Sclrwegler,  in  liis  translation 
of  the  Metaphysics,  renders  it  by  Wissenschaft.  "E.m<TTriv.r\  is  our 
“  philosophy.” 

2  See  Jebb,  Homer,  pp.  110  sqq. 


239 


240 


APPENDIX 


from  this  that,  when  we  find  Greek  writers  confining 
soul-education  to  Music,  or  Music  and  Letters,  we 
must  not  conclude  that  these  signify  only  playing  and 
singing,  reading  and  writing.  Socrates  was  saying 
nothing  new  or  paradoxical,  when  he  affirmed  that 
Philosophy  was  the  “  highest  music.”  The  Pythago¬ 
reans  had  said  the  same  thing  before  him,  and  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  Pythagoras  himself  included 
under  Music  (1)  Letters,  (2)  Arithmetic,  (3)  Geome¬ 
try,  (4)  Astronomy,  (5)  Music,  in  our  sense,  and 
(6)  Philosophy  (a  term  invented  by  him).  Plato  did 
the  same  thing.  He  speaks  of  “the  true  Muse  that 
is  accompanied  with  truth  (Aoywv)  and  philosophy.” 
But  in  his  time  “  Music  ”  was  used  in  two  senses,  a 
broad  one,  in  which  it  included  the  whole  of  intel¬ 
lectual  education,  and  a  narrow  one,  in  which  it  is 
confined  to  music  in  the  modern  sense.  It  is  in  this 
latter  sense  that  it  is  used  by  Aristotle,  when  he 
makes  the  intellectual  branches  of  school  education 
(1)  Letters,  (2)  Music,  and  (3)  Drawing.  Philosophy 
he  places  in  a  higher  grade.  Having  distinguished 
Letters  from  Music,  it  is  natural  enough  that  he 
should  assign  to  the  former  the  branches  which  Py¬ 
thagoras  had  included  under  the  latter.  His  literary 
scheme  appears  to  be  (1)  Grammar,  (2)  Rhetoric, 
(3)  Dialectic,  (4)  Arithmetic,  (5)  Geometry,  (6)  As¬ 
tronomy.  Add  Music,  and  we  have  exactly  the  Seven 
Liberal  Arts but,  as  Drawing  must  also  be  added,  it 
is  clear  that  there  was,  as  yet,  no  thought  of  fixing 
definitely  the  number  seven.  That  Drawing  was  for 
a  long  time  part  of  the  school  curriculum,  is  rendered 
clear  by  a  passage  in  a  work  of  Teles  (b.c.  260) 
quoted  by  Stobeeus  (xcviii,  72),  in  which  it  is  said 
that  boys  study  (1)  Letters,  (2)  Music,  (3)  Drawing; 
young  men,  (4)  Arithmetic,  and  (5)  Geometry.  The 
last  two  branches  are  here  already  distinguished  from 
Letters ;  but  we  cannot  be  sure  that  the  list  is 
intended  to  be  exhaustive.  What  is  especially  notice¬ 
able  in  the  list  of  Teles  is,  that  it  draws  a  clear 
distinction  between  the  lower  and  higher  studies,  a 


THE  SEVEN  LIBERAL  ARTS 


241 


distinction  which  foreshadows  the  Trivium  and  Qua- 
drivium  of  later  times.1 

, .  >  or  the  highest  education,  Aristotle 

divided  into  (1)  Theory  and  (2)  Practice.  Theory 
he  subdivided  into  (a)  Theology,  First  Philosophy, 
or  Wisdom,  called  later  Metaphysics,  the  science  of 
the  Unchangeable,  and  (b)  Physics,  the  science  of  the 
Changeable ;  Practice  into  (a)  Ethics,  including  Poli¬ 
tics  and  (Economics,  and  (b)  Poetics  or  ^Esthetics. 

After  Teles  we  hear  little  of  the  Greek  school-curric¬ 
ulum  until  about  the  Christian  era.  Meanwhile,  the 
Romans,  having  acquired  a  smattering  of  Greek  learn¬ 
ing,  began  to  draw  up  a  scheme  of  studies  suitable  for 
themselves.  It  is  noticeable  that  in  this  scheme  there 
distinction  as  the  Greeks  drew  between 
liberal  (eAeudepiou,  iyKvi<\LOL,  Aoyt/cat)  and  illiberal  (fiavav- 
a-oi)  arts.2  As  early  as  the  first  half  of  the  second 
century  b.c.,  Cato  the  Censor  wrote  a  series  of  manuals 

vrM-SOn  011  Ethics,  (2)  Rhetoric,  (3)  Medicine, 
(4)  Military  Science,  (5)  Farming,  (6)  Law.  It  is  very 
significant  that  the  only  Greek  school-study  which  ap¬ 
pears  here  is  Rhetoric ;  this  the  Romans,  and  notably 
Cato  himself,  always  studied  with  great  care  for  prac¬ 
tical  purposes.  It  seems  that  Cato,  in  order  to  resist 
the  inroads  of  Greek  education  and  manners,  which 
he  felt  to  be  demoralizing,  tried  to  draw  up  a  charac¬ 
teristically  Roman  curriculum.  Greece,  however,  in 
great  measure,  prevailed,  and  half  a  century  later  we 
find  Varro  writing  upon  most  of  the  subjects  in  the 
Greek  curriculum:  Grammar,  Rhetoric,  Dialectic, 

Tt  is  a  pity  that  we  cannot  fix  the  date  of  the  so-called  Picture 
°»  ,  s  (ke£rjro?  m„«f).  In  this  we  find  enumerated  the  votaries 

?h  vllse-  •LearniF?’  (P  Poets,  (2)  Rhetoricians,  (3)  Dialecticians, 

-Musicians,  (o)  Arithmeticians,  (6)  Geometricians,  (7)  Astrolo- 
^ers  (it  we  count  Poets  =  Grammarians,  we  have  exactly  the  Seven 
-Liberal  Arts),  (8)  Hedonists,  (9)  Peripatetics,  (10)  Critics,  “and 
such  others  as  are  like  to  these.”  The  “Hedonists”  tfSovucoi)  are 
tne  Gyrenaics ;  the  “  Critics  ”  (kpitucol)  can  hardly  be  the  grammari¬ 
ans,  though  that  is  usually  the  meaning  of  the  term  in  later  times. 
Should  we  not  read  KVVLKOL  ? 

2  “  Liberal  ”  means  fit,  “illiberal”  unfit,  for  freemen.  The 
sum  of  the  liberal  arts  was  called  ’F.yKVK\ionai8eCa,  which  we  have 
corrupted  into  Encyclopaedia. 


242 


APPENDIX 


Arithmetic,  Geometry,  Astronomy,  Music,  Philoso¬ 
phy,  besides  many  others.  He  wrote  a  treatise  in 
nine  books,  called  Disciplinarum  Libri.  Ritschl,  in 
his  Qucestiones  Varroniance /  tried  to  show  that  these 
“Disciplinae”  were  the  Seven  Liberal  Arts,  plus  Archi¬ 
tecture  and  Medicine,  and  Mommsen,  in  his  Roman 
History ,  has  followed  him  ;  but  Ritschl  himself  later 
changed  his  opinion.  There  seems  no  doubt  that 

(1)  Grammar,  (2)  Rhetoric,  (3)  Dialectic,  (4)  Music, 
(5)  Geometry,  and  (6)  Architecture  were  treated  in 
the  work :  what  the  rest  were  we  can  only  guess.1 2 
There  is  no  ground  for  the  assertion  that  the  Seven 
Liberal  Arts  were  obtained  by  dropping  Architecture 
and  Medicine  from  Yarro’s  list.  It  must  have  been 
about  the  time  of  Varro,  if  not  earlier,  that  Roman 
education  came  to  be  divided  into  three  grades,  called 
respectively  (1)  Grammar,  (2)  Rhetoric,  and  (3)  Phi¬ 
losophy,  the  last  falling  to  the  lot  of  but  few  persons. 
Of  course  “  Grammar  ”  now  came  to  have  a  very  ex¬ 
tensive  meaning,  as  we  can  see  from  the  definition  of  it 
given  by  Dionysius  Thrax,  in  his  grammar,  prepared 
apparently  for  Roman  use  (b.c.  90).  In  the  Scholia 
to  that  work  (I  am  unable  to  fix  their  date),  we 
find  the  Liberal  Arts  enumerated  as  (1)  Astronomy, 

(2)  Geometry,  (3)  Music,  (4)  Philosophy,  (5)  Medi¬ 
cine,  (6)  Grammar,  (7)  Rhetoric.3 

But  to  return  to  the  Greeks.  In  the  works  of  Philo 
Judaeus,  a  contemporary  of  Jesus,  we  find  the  Encyclic 
Arts  frequently  referred  to,  and  distinguished  from 
Philosophy.  The  former,  he  says,  are  represented  by 
the  Egyptian  slave  Hagar,  the  latter  by  Sarah,  the 
lawful  wife.  One  must  associate  with  the  Arts  before 
he  can  find  Philosophy  fruitful.  In  no  one  passage 
does  Philo  give  a  list  of  the  Encyclic  Arts.  In  one 
place  we  find  enumerated  (1)  Grammer,  (2)  Geometry, 

(3)  Music,  (4)  Rhetoric  (De  Clierub.,  §  30)  ;  in  another 

1  Bonn,  1845. 

2  See  Boissier,  Etude  sur  laVie  et  les  Ouvrages  de  M.  T.  Varron, 
pp.  382,  sqq. 

8  See  Bekker’s  Anecdota  Grxca,  ii.,  655. 


THE  SEVEN  LIBERAL  ARTS 


243 


(1)  Grammer,  (2)  Geometry,  (3)  “the  entire  music  of 
encyclic  instruction”  ( De  Agricult.,  §4);  in  another 
(1)  Grammar,  (2)  Music,  (3)  Geometry,  (4)  Rhetoric, 
(5)  Dialectic  {De  Congressu  Queer.  Erud.  Grat.,  §  5); 
in  another,  (1)  Grammar,  (2)  Arithmetic,  (3)  Geome¬ 
try,  (4)  Music,  (5)  Rhetoric  {De  Somniis,  §  35),  etc. 

It  would  seem  that  the  Encyclic  Arts,  according  to 
Philo,  were  (1)  Grammar,  (2)  Rhetoric,  (3)  Dialectic, 
(4)  Arithmetic,  (5)  Geometry,  (6)  Music.  Astronomy 
appears  in  none  of  the  lists.  Philosophy  is  divided 
into  (1)  Physics,  (2)  Logic,  (3)  Ethics  {De  Mutat. 
JSfom.,  §  10),  a  division  that  was  long  current. 

From  what  has  been  adduced,  I  think  we  may  fairly 
conclude  that  at  the  Christian  era  no  definite  number 
had  been  fixed  for  the  liberal  arts  either  at  Athens, 
Alexandria,  or  Rome.  The  list  apparently  differed  in 
different  places.  Clearly  the  Roman  programme  was 
quite  different  from  the  Greek.  Shortly  after  this 
era,  we  find  Seneca  (who  died  a.d.  65)  giving  the 
liberal  arts,  liberalia  studia,  as  (1)  Grammar,  (2)  Music, 

(3)  Geometry,  (4)  Arithmetic,  (5)  Astronomy  {Epist., 
88).  He  divides  Philosophy  into  (1)  Moral,  (2) 
Natural,  (3)  Rational,  and  the  last  he  subdivides 
into  (a)  Dialectic  and  (b)  Rhetoric.  Above  all  he 
places  Wisdom,  u  Sapientia  perfectum  bonum  est  mentis 
humance  ”  {Epist.,  89) .  Here  we  see  that  two  of  the 
Seven  Liberal  Arts  are  classed  under  Philosophy. 
A  little  later,  Quintilian  divides  all  education  into 
(1)  Grammar,  and  (2)  Rhetoric,  but  condescends  to 
allow  his  young  orator  to  study  a  little  Music,  Geome¬ 
try,  and  Astronomy. 

Turning  to  the  Greeks,  we  find  Sextus  Empiricus, 
who  seems  to  have  flourished  in  Athens  and  Alexan¬ 
dria  toward  the  end  of  the  second  century,  writing  a 
great  work  against  the  dogmatists  or  “mathemati¬ 
cians,”  of  whom  he  finds  nine  classes,  corresponding 
to  six  arts,  and  three  sciences  of  philosophy.  The 
arts  are  (1)  Grammar,  (2)  Rhetoric,  (3)  Geometry, 

(4)  Arithmetic,  (5)  Astronomy,  (6)  Music :  the  sci¬ 
ences,  (1)  Logic,  (2)  Physics,  (3)  Ethics,  We  are  now 


244 


APPENDIX 


not  far  from  the  Seven  Liberal  Arts ;  still  we  have  not 
reached  them. 

There  is  not,  I  think,  any  noteworthy  list  of  the 
liberal  arts  to  be  found  in  any  ancient  author  after 
Sextus,  till  we  come  to  St.  Augustine.  In  his  Retrac- 
tiones,  written  about  425,  he  tells  us  (I,  6)  that  in  his 
youth  he  undertook  to  write  Disciplmarum  Libri  (the 
exact  title  of  Varro’s  work  !),  that  he  finished  the  book 
on  (1)  Grammar,  wrote  six  volumes  on  (2)  Music,  and 
made  a  beginning  with  other  Jive  disciplines,  (3)  Dia¬ 
lectic,  (4)  Bhetoric,  (5)  Geometry,  (6)  Arithmetic, 
(7)  Philosophy.  It  has  frequently  been  assumed  that 
we  have  here,  for  the  first  time,  the  Seven  Liberal 
Arts  definitely  fixed;  but  there  is  nothing  whatever 
in  the  passage  to  justify  this  assumption.  The  au¬ 
thor  does  not  say  “ the  other  five  disciplines,”  but 
merely  “  other  five.”  Among  these  five,  moreover,  is 
named  Philosophy,  which,  though  certainly  a  “disci¬ 
pline,”  was  never,  so  far  as  I  can  discover,  called  an  art, 
liberal  or  otherwise.  There  is  not  the  smallest  reason 
for  tracing  back  the  Seven  Liberal  Arts  to  St.  Augus¬ 
tine,  who  surely  was  incapable  of  any  such  playing 
with  numbers.  He  does  not,  indeed,  recognize  the 
“  Seven.” 

It  is  in  the  fantastic  and  superficial  work  of  Mar- 
tianus  Capella,  a  heathen  contemporary  of  Augustine’s, 
that  they  first  make  their  appearance,  and  even  there 
no  stress  is  laid  upon  their  number.  They  are  (1) 
Grammar,  (2)  Dialectic,  (3)  Rhetoric,  (4)  Geometry, 
(5)  Arithmetic,  (6)  Astronomy,  (7)  Music.  These, 
no  doubt,  were  the  branches  taught  in  the  better 
schools  of  the  Roman  Empire  in  the  fourth  and  fifth 
centuries,  when,  on  the  whole,  the  Greek  liberal  cur¬ 
riculum  had  supplanted  the  Roman  rhetorical  one. 
There  is  not  the  slightest  ground  for  supposing  that 
Capella  had  anything  to  do  with  fixing  the  curricu¬ 
lum  which  he  celebrates.  His  work  is  a  wretched 
production,  sufficiently  characterized  by  its  title,  The 
Wedding  of  Mercury  and  Philology.  He  wrote  about 
seven  arts  because  he  found  seven  to  write  about. 


THE  SEVEN  LIBERAL  ARTS 


245 


Attention  was  first  called  to  the  number  of  the  arts, 
and  a  mystical  meaning  attached  to  it,  by  the  Chris¬ 
tian  senator,  Cassiodorus  (480-575)  in  his  Be  Artibus 
et  Bisciplinis  Liberalium  Litterarum.  He  finds  it 
written  in  Prov.  ix,  1,  that  “  Wisdom  hath  builded 
her  house.  She  hath  hewn  out  her  seven  pillars.” 
He  concludes  that  the  Seven  Liberal  Arts  are  the 
seven  pillars  of  the  house  of  Wisdom.  They  corre¬ 
spond  also  to  the  days  of  the  week,  which  are  also 
seven.  It  is  to  be  observed  that  he  distinguishes  the 
“  Arts  ”  from  the  “  Disciplines,”  or,  as  they  said  later, 
the  Trivium  from  the  Quadrivium.  The  pious  notion 
of  Cassiodorus  was  worked  out  by  Isidore  of  Seville 
(died  636)  in  his  Etymologice,  and  by  Alcuin  (died 
804)  in  his  Grammatica.  Of  course,  as  soon  as  the 
number  of  the  arts  came  to  be  regarded  as  fixed  by 
Scripture  authority,  it  became  as  familiar  a  fact  as 
the  number  of  the  planets  or  of  the  days  of  the  week, 
or  indeed,  as  the  number  of  the  elements.  About 
a.d.  820  Hrabanus  Maurus  (776— 856),  a  pupil  of 
Alcuin’s,  wrote  a  work,  Be  Clericorum  Institutione,  in 
which  the  phrase  Septem  Liberates  Artes  is  said  to 
occur  for  the  first  time.  About  the  same  date  Theo- 
dulfus  wrote  his  allegorical  poem  Be  Septem  Libera - 
libus  in  quadam  Pictura  Bescriptis.1 

The  Liberal  Studies  after  St.  Augustine  did  not 
include  Philosophy,  which  rested  upon  the  Seven 
Arts,  as  upon  “  seven  pillars,”  and  was  usually  divided 
into  (1)  Physical,  (2)  Logical,  (3)  Ethical.2  After  a 
time  Philosophy  came  to  be  an  all-embracing  term. 
In  a  commentary  on  the  Timceus  of  Plato,  assigned 
by  Cousin  to  the  twelfth  century,  we  find  the  follow¬ 
ing  scheme :  — 

1 1  am  indebted  for  a  number  of  these  facts  to  an  article  by  Pro¬ 
fessor  A.  F.  West,  in  the  Princeton  College  Bulletin,  November,  1890. 

2  These  terms,  which  we  still  find  in  Isidore  and  Hrabanus  Mau¬ 
rus,  are  afterwards,  in  the  thirteenth  century,  replaced  by  their 
Latin  equivalents:  Natural,  Rational,  and  Moral.  In  the  case  of 
the  second,  this  caused  considerable  confusion,  inasmuch  as  when 
it  ceased  to  be  used  as  “  rational,”  it  took  the  place  of  “  dialectic.” 


246 


APPENDIX 


f  Ethics. 

Practical  •{  Economics. 

I  Politics. 


Philosophy  • 


Theoretical  ■ 


Theology. 

Mathe¬ 

matics 


'  Arithmetic 
Music 
Geometry 
Astronomy 


Physics. 


=  Quadrivium. 


The  author  expressly  says  that  “  Mathematica  quad- 
rivium  continet  ” ;  but  he  plainly  does  not  include  the 
Trivium  under  Philosophy.  This,  however,  was  done 
in  the  following  century.  In  the  Itinerarium  Mentis 
in  Deurn  of  St.  Bonaventura  (1221-74)  we  find  the 
following  arrangements :  — 


Natural 


Metaphysics — essence:  leads  to  First 
Principle  =  Father. 

Mathematics — numbers,  figures:  leads 
to  Image  =  Son. 

Physics — natures,  powers,  diffusions : 
leads  to  Gift  of  Holy  Spirit. 


Philosophy 


Rational 


'  Grammar — power  of  expression  =  Fa¬ 
ther. 

Logic — perspicuity  in  argument  =  Son. 
Rhetoric — skill  in  persuading  =  Holy 
Spirit. 


f  Monastics — innascibility  of  Father. 
Moral  1  (Economics — familiarity  of  Son. 

[  Politics — liberality  of  Holy  Spirit. 


Here  we  have  the  Trivium,  under  the  division  “  na¬ 
tional,”  while  the  Quadrivium  must  still  be  included 
under  “Mathematics.”  In  both  cases  we  get  nine 
sciences  or  disciplines,  and  the  number  was  appar¬ 
ently  chosen,  because  it  is  the  square  of  three,  the 
number  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  In  the  latter  case  this 
was  certainly  true.  Speaking  of  the  primary  divisions 
of  Philosophy,  the  Saint  says :  “  The  first  treats  of  the 
cause  of  being,  and  therefore  leads  to  the  Power  of  the 
Pather ;  the  second  of  the  ground  of  understanding, 
and  therefore  leads  to  the  Wisdom  of  the  Word  ;  the 
third  of  the  order  of  living,  and  therefore  leads  to  the 
goodness  of  the  Holy  Spirit.” 


THE  SEVEN  LIBERAL  ARTS 


247 


Dante,  in  liis  Convivio  (II,  14,  15),  gives  the  follow¬ 
ing  scheme,  based  upon  the  “ten  heavens/'  nine  of 
which  are  moved  by  angels  or  intelligences,  while  the 
last  rests  in  God. 


_  .  .  f  Grammar  . .  Moon  ....  Angels. 

Irivium  j  Dialectic. .  .Mercury  .Archangels. 

[ Rhetoric  . .  .Venus. . . . Thrones. 


Liberal  Arts  • 


Philosophy 


( Arithmetic .  Sun . . . 

Quadrivium  -!  ; - Mars. . 

I  Geometry .  .Jupiter 
l  Astrology . .  Saturn  , 

Physics  and  1  Q .  __ 

Metaphysics  j  Starry  Heaven. . 

Moral  Science.  1  Crystalline  ) 

(  Heaven  j  '  " 
Theology . Empyrean . 


•  Dominions. 
Virtues. 
Principalities. 
Powers. 


Cherubim. 

Seraphim.1 

God. 


In  Dante  are  summed  up  the  ancient  and  mediaeval 
systems  of  education. 

1  In  the  XXVIIIth  Canto  of  the  Paradise,  these  angelic  powers 
aie  arranged  somewhat  differently,  in  deference  to  Dionysius  Are- 
opagita  and  St.  Bernard. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


It  is  not  intended  here  to  give  a  complete  Bibliography  of 
Greek  Education,  but  merely  to  point  the  readers  of  this  book, 
who  may  desire  to  pursue  the  subject  further,  to  the  chief 
sources  of  information. 


1.  ANCIENT  WORKS 

For  the  first  part  of  the  Hellenic  Period,  that  of  the  “Old 
Education,”  our  authorities  are  fragmentary,  and  often  vague. 
They  are  the  Iliad  and  Odysse\y  of  Homer,  the  Works  and  Days 
of  Hesiod,  the  fragments  of  the  pre-Socratic  philosophers  (col¬ 
lected  by  Mullach,  in  his  Fragmenta  Philosophorum  Grcecorum , 
Paris,  Didot,  1860-81,  3  vols.  4to),  and  the  comedies  of  Aris¬ 
tophanes,  especially  the  Clouds.  For  the  second  part  of  the 
same  period,  that  of  the  “New  Education,”  the  chief  author¬ 
ities  are  the  tragedies  of  Euripides,  the  Clouds  of  Aristophanes, 
the  dialogues  of  Plato,  especially  the  Protagoras ,  Lysis ,  Repub¬ 
lic ,  and  Laws ,  and  the  Cyropcedia ,  (Economics ,  and  Constitution 
of  Lacedaemon  of  Xenophon. 

For  Aristotle’s  educational  doctrines,  we  are  confined  for 
information  to  his  own  works,  and,  among  these,  to  the  Ethics 
and  Politics.  Of  the  latter,  the  closing  chapters  of  the  seventh, 
and  the  whole  of  the  eighth,  book  deal  professedly  with  edu¬ 
cation.  Some  information  may  also  be  gleaned  from  the 
recently  discovered  Constitution  of  Athens. 

For  the  Hellenistic  Period,  our  information  is  derived  chiefly 
from  inscriptions,  from  the  writings  of  Philo  Judaeus,  Sextus 
Empiricus,  Plutarch  (On  the  Nurture  of  Children),  iElian  (Mis- 

249 


250 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


cellanies),  Lucian  (. Anacharsis  chiefly),  Stobseus,  Plotinus,  Yarro, 
Cicero,  Seneca,  Quintilian  (. Education  of  the  Orator ),  Martianus 
Capella  (  Nuptials  of  Mercury  and  Philology ),  and  Cassiodorus, 
and  from  stray  notices  in  other  poets,  historians,  and  phi¬ 
losophers. 

Of  the  works  referred  to,  these  deserve  special  mention :  — 

1.  Aristophanes,  Clouds.  Translations  by  John  Hookham 

Frere,  Thomas  Mitchell,  and  W.  J.  Hickie  (in  Bohn’s 
Library). 

2.  Xenophon,  Cyropceclia.  Translation,  in  Whole  Works  trans¬ 

lated  by  Ashley  Cooper  and  Others,  Philadelphia,  1842,  and 
by  J.  S.  Watson  and  H.  Dale  (in  Bohn’s  Library). 

3.  Plato,  Bepublic.  Translations  by  J.  LI.  Davies  and  D.  J. 

Vaughan,  by  B.  Jowett,  and  by  Henry  Davis  (in  Bohn’s 
Library) . 

4.  Plato,  Laws.  Translations  by  B.  Jowett,  and  by  G.  Burges 

(in  Bohn’s  Library). 

5.  Aristotle,  Politics  (Books  yil,  VIII).  Translations  by 

B.  Jowett,  J.  E.  C.  Weldon,  and  E.  Walford  (in  Bohn’s 
Library). 

6.  Plutarch,  On  the  Nurture  of  Children.  Translation  in 

Morals ,  translated  from  the  Greek  by  several  hands,  cor¬ 
rected  and  revised  by  W.  W.  Goodwin,  Boston,  1878. 

7.  Quintilian,  Education  of  an  Orator.  Translation  by  J.  S. 

Wats^p  (in  Bohn’s  Library). 

2.  MODERN  WORKS 

These  are  very  numerous ;  but  the  most  comprehensive  is 
Lorenz  Grasberger’s  Erziehung  unci  Unterricht  im  klassischen 
Alterthum,  mit  besonderer  Bucksiclit  auf  die  Bedurfnisse  der 
Gegenwart,  Wurzburg,  1864-81,  3  vols.  The  first  volume  deals 
with  the  physical  training  of  boys,  the  second  with  their  intel¬ 
lectual  training,  and  the  third  with  the  education  imparted  by 
the  State  to  young  men  (e0??/3oi).  A  volume  of  plates  is 
promised.  The  work  is  badly  constructed,  but  is  a  mine  of 
information  and  of  references. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


251 


Along  with  this  may  be  named  0.  H.  Jager,  Die  Gymnastik 
der  Hellenen ,  in  ilirem  Einfluss  auf's  gesammte  Altertlium  und 
Hirer  Bedeutung  fur  die  deutsche  Gegenwart ,  Esslingen,  1850 ; 
Fournier,  Sur  V Education  et  l' Instruction  Publiques  cliez  les 
Grecs ,  Berlin,  1833  ;  Becq  de  Fouquiere,  Les  Jeux  des  Anciens , 
Paris,  1869  ;  De  Pauw,  Becherches  Philosophiques  sur  les  Grecs  ; 
Fr.  Jacobs,  Ueber  die  Erziehung  der  Hellenen  zur  Sittlichkeit, 
Vermischte  Schr.  Pt.  III. ;  Albert  Dumont,  Essai  sur  VEphebie 
Attique,  Paris,  1875-6;  Dittenberger,  De  Epliebis  Atticis ;  Chr. 
Petersen,  Das  Gymnasium  der  Griechen  nach  seiner  baulichen 
Einriclitung  beschrieben,  Hamburg,  1858 ;  Alexander  Kapp, 
Platon's  Erziehung slehre ,  Minden,  1833,  and  Aristotle's  Staats- 
pcedagogik ,  Hamm,  1837  ;  J.  H.  Krause,  Geschichte  der  Er¬ 
ziehung  des  Unterrichts  und  der  Bildung  bei  den  Griechen , 
Etruskern  und  Bomern ,  Halle,  1851. 

Chapters  on  Greek  Education  may  be  found  in  W.  A.  Becker’s 
Cliaricles  and  Gallus  ;  in  Guhl  and  Koner’s  Life  of  the  Greeks 
and  Bomans  —  all  three  translated  into  English.  In  Hellenica 
is  an  essay,  by  R.  S.  Nettleship,  on  the  Theory  of  Education  in 
the  Bepublic  of  Plato ,  Rivington,  1880,  and  in  Edwin  Hatch’s 
Influence  of  Greek  Ideas  upon  the  Christian  Church  (Ilibbert 
Lectures)  is  a  chapter  on  Greek  Education  (Lecture  II). 


. 


' 

■ 


■ 


INDEX 


A 

Academics,  112,  210. 

Academy,  86,  112. 

Achilles,  6. 

ASolian  Education,  38  sqq. 

A£oIians,  35. 

Aeschylus,  104  sqq. 

ASsop’s  Fables,  146,  223. 

'At ra?,  47. 

Alexander  the  Great,  40, 156  sq.,  178. 
Alexandria,  211. 

Ammonius  Saccas,  225,  227. 
Amphidromia,  65. 

Amyntas,  156. 

Anaxagoras,  24,  99  sq. 

Antisthenes,  112. 

Apoxyomenos,  the,  82  n. 

Archytas,  55,  193. 

Aristocracy  in  Athens,  98. 
Aristophanes,  105. 

Aristotle,  Life,  29,  153  sqq. 

“  Death,  159. 

“  Philosophy,  161. 

Theology,  165. 

“  Theory  of  the  State,  166 

sqq. 

Pedagogical  State,  172  sqq. 
Scheme  of  Secondary  Ed¬ 
ucation,  199. 

Arithmetic,  how  Taught,  77. 

Artemis  Orthia,  50. 

Arts,  Origin  of,  in  Greece,  20. 
Athenian  Education,  60. 

Athenian  Ideal  of  the  State,  63. 
Athletes,  78,  184. 

Athletics,  190. 


B 

Barbarians  vs.  Greeks,  12. 

Bodily  Training,  77. 

Branches  of  Greek  Education,  6. 

G 

Caesar,  217. 

Cato  Major,  216. 

Chaeronea,  Battle  of,  157. 

Character  of  the  Greeks  (Zeller),  18. 
Children,  Defective,  185. 

Children,  Treatment  of,  185. 
Christianity,  233  sqq. 

Cicero,  217. 

Citharist,  his  Functions,  77. 

Citizen,  Meaning  of,  175. 

Clisthenes,  98. 

College  Education,  85. 

Commerce,  Effect  of,  21,  99  sq. 
Competition  in  Education,  71. 
Conditions  of  Education,  9. 
Contemplation,  201. 

Copernicus,  39. 

Cornificius  ( Auctor  ad  Heren - 
nium ) ,  217. 

Cretan  Education,  42. 

Culture-State,  90,  175. 

Cynosarges  (Gymnasium),  86, 112. 
Cyrus,  his  Education,  115  sqq. 

D 

Dancing,  82  sqq. 

Democracy  in  Athens,  92,  99. 

Diagoge  (SlaywyrJ),  33,  178. 

253 


254 


INDEX 


Dionysiac  Chorus,  85. 

Dipcenis  and  Scyllis,  21. 
Discus-throwing,  80. 

Dorian  Education,  41  sqq. 

Doric  Harmonies,  197. 

Draco,  98. 

Drawing,  189. 

E 

Education,  “  Old,”  27,  33,  61  sqq. 

«  “  New,”  27,  93  sqq. 

“  Higher,  108. 

Eicr7T»/>jAa?  (Inspirer),  47. 
Epaminondas,  40,  55. 

Epheboi  (Cadets),  49,  89,  90, 116, 118. 
Epheboi,  Oath  of,  61,  89. 

Epicureans,  210. 

Epochs  in  Education,  26. 

Essenism,  59,  212. 

Ethnic  and  Cosmopolitan  Life,  205. 
Examinations,  64,  90. 

F 

Family  Education  in  Athens,  64. 
Freedom,  Greek  Tendency  to,  19. 
Freeman’s  Square,  116,  177. 
Friendship,  Aristotle  on,  170. 

G 

Games,  66. 

Golden  Words,  57  sqq.,  146. 

Grading  in  Schools,  85. 

Grammar,  214,  221. 

Greeks  a  Mixed  Race,  20. 

Greeks  vs.  Barbarians,  12. 

Guardians  of  Public  Instruction, 
185  sqq. 

Gymnasia  at  Athens,  86,  105. 
Gymnastics,  7,  77,  189. 

H 

Harmony,  55,  56,  76. 

“  Doric,  Lydian,  etc.  192. 

“  in  Music,  Unknown  to 

Greeks,  73. 


Hellenic  Period  of  Education,  26, 
32  sqq. 

Hellenistic  Period  of  Education,  27, 
203  sqq. 

Helots,  44  sq. 

Hermsea,  79,  85. 

Hermias,  155. 

Hesiod,  22. 

Hetaerae,  132. 

Holidays,  85. 

Homeric  Education,  6,  17. 

“  Society  and  Kings,  16. 

“  Poems  collected,  35. 
Homeridae,  21. 

I 

Ideal  of  Greek  Education,  3,  206. 
Individualism  and  Philosophy,  93 
sqq.,  207. 

Induction,  Method  of,  162. 

Ionian  Education,  60  sqq. 

Isaiah,  53,  133,  234. 

Ischomachus,  124  sqq. 

Isocrates,  209. 

J 

Javelin-casting,  81. 

Jumping,  80. 

Justinian,  211. 

K 

Kalokagathia,  8,  12,  15,  86. 

Katharsis  (purgation),  7,  76,  229. 
Kindergarten,  66,  145. 

Kingdom  of  Heaven,  234. 

“  Know  Thyself,”  108. 

L 

Larceny,  Instruction  in,  48. 

Leaping,  80. 

Learning,  how  viewed  in  Greece,  72. 
Leisure,  Education  for,  33,  179. 
Letters,  22,  188. 

Letters,  Introduction  and  Uses  of,  21. 
Liberal  Arts,  180  sqq.,  198. 

Library  of  Alexandria,  211. 


INDEX 


255 


Life  the  Original  School,  6. 

Literary  Education,  72. 

Love,  as  a  Power  in  Life,  234. 
Lyceum,  105,  171. 

Lycurgus,  42,  43. 

Lysis,  39. 

M 

Macedonian  Period  in  Education, 
13. 

Marriage,  10,  127. 

Melleirenes,  49. 

Milo,  the  Wrestler,  55. 
Money-making  Classes,  13. 

Music,  22,  34,  72  sqq.,  188,  191. 
Music,  Greek  Feeling  for,  76,  146. 
Museum  at  Alexandria,  211. 

N 

Nymphaeum  at  Stagira,  156. 
Neoplatonism,  212,  227. 

O 

(Economy,  13. 

Olympic  Games,  78. 

P 

naiSovo/aoi,  46,  185,  187. 

Palaestra,  69  sq.,  78  sq. 

Pantheism,  136. 

Parmenides,  24. 

Parthenon,  24,  106. 

Pedagogical  State,  172  sqq. 
Pedagogue,  68. 

Peleus,  7. 

Pentathlon,  88. 

Pericles,  105  sqq. 

Perioikoi,  44. 

Periods  of  Greek  Education,  26 
sqq. 

Persian  Education,  115  sqq. 
Personality,  202. 

Pherecydes,  53. 

Phiditia,  44. 

Philolaus,  39. 

Philosophy,  Rise  of,  22. 


Philosophy  and  Individualism, 
93  sqq. 

Physical  Culture,  189. 

Physicians  in  Homer,  17. 

Pindar,  39. 

Pisistratus,  35,  98,  178. 

Plato,  29,  112,  133  sqq.,  134,  136,  137, 
142. 

Play,  66,  181  sqq. 

Plotinus,  29,  225  sqq.,  228  sqq. 
Poetesses,  21. 

Poetry,  Value  of,  for  Education, 
73  sqq. 

“  Professional,”  Meaning  of,  195. 
Prometheia,  24. 

Proxenus  of  Atarneus,  155. 
Purgation,  7,  76. 

Pythagoras,  29,  52  sqq.,  149. 

Pythias,  156. 

Q 

Quadriviura,  144,  198. 

Quintilian,  29,  214  sqq. 


R 

Reading,  75. 

Rhapsodes,  23. 

Rhetorical  Schools,  209,  217. 
Roman  Education,  216  sqq. 
Roman  Period,  27. 

Ruling  and  Ruled,  176. 
Running,  79. 

S 

School  Education  in  Athens,  67. 
“  Buildings  “  “  69. 

“  Rooms  “  “  77. 

Scipio  Africanus,  216. 

Singing,  75. 

Slaves,  12. 

Social  Life  in  Greece,  18. 
Socrates,  24,  107  sqq. 

Socratic  Method,  109. 

Solon,  and  his  Laws,  68,  98. 
Soothsayers  in  Homer,  17. 
Sophists,  23,  100  sq. 

Spartan  Education,  41,  43  sqq. 


256 


INDEX 


Spartan  Grids,  49. 

“  Government,  44. 

“  Ideal,  42. 

“  Mercilessness,  45,  50. 

“  Women,  44. 

Stagira,  155  sq. 

State,  Meaning  of  Term,  174. 

State  as  a  School,  91. 

Stilo,  Lucius  iElius  Praeconinus, 
217. 

Stoics,  210. 

Supercivic  Man,  136,  234. 

T 

Theban  Education,  28. 

Themistes,  17. 

Theories  of  Education,  28. 
Therapeuts,  212. 

Thomas  Aquinas,  165. 

Thucydides’  Daughter,  37. 

Tragedy,  84. 

Trivium,  144,  198. 


U 

University  Education,  90. 

“  of  Alexandria,  212. 

“  of  Athens,  211. 

W 

Wilhelm  Meister ,  173. 

Wingless  Victory,  63. 

Wisdom,  the  Ideal  of  Athens,  63. 
Women,  Education  of,  49,  124. 
Worth,  16,  48. 

Worth,  Aristotle’s  Paean  to,  4. 
Wrestling,  81  sqq. 

Writing,  75. 

X 

Xenophon,  29,  113,  114  sqq. 

“  Memoirs  of  Socrates, 

123. 

“  (Economics ,  124. 

“  on  Female  Education, 

124  sqq. 


Typography  by  J.  S.  Cushing  &  Co.,  Boston,  U.S.A. 


Presswork  by  Berwick  &  Smith,  Boston,  U.S.A. 


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institutional.  The  writers  are  well-known  students  of  education, 
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In  Preparation. 

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on  “  Thomas  Arnold  ;  or,  the  English  Education  of  To-day,” 
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NOW  READY 

THE  USE  AND  ABUSE  OF  MONEY 

By  Dr.  W.  Cunningham,  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 
i2mo,  $1.00,  net. 

CONTENTS — political  economy  with  assumptions  and 

WITHOUT - INDUSTRY  WITHOUT  CAPITAL — CAPITALIST  ERA  — 

MATERIAL  PROGRESS  AND  MORAL  INDIFFERENCE — THE  CONTROL 
OF  CAPITAL  — THE  FORMATION  OF  CAPITAL — THE  INVESTMENT 
OF  CAPITAL — CAPITAL  IN  ACTION  —  THE  REPLACEMENT  OF 
CAPITAL — THE  DIRECTION  OF  CAPITAL — PERSONAL  RESPONSE 
BILITY — DUTY  IN  REGARD  TO  EMPLOYING  CAPITAL — DUTY  IN 
REGARD  TO  THE  RETURNS  ON  CAPITAL — THE  ENJOYMENT  OF 
WEALTH. 

Dr.  Cunningham's  book  is  intended  for  those  who  are  already 
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them  to  think  on  topics  about  which  everybody  talks.  It  Is 


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the  use  of  those  who  may  wish  to  pursue  the  study  further. 

THE  FINE  ARTS 

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the  University  of  Edinburgh.  i2mo,  with  Ulus- 
trations>  $1.00,  net. 

CONTENTS — Part  I. — art  as  the  expression  of  popu¬ 
lar.  FEELINGS  AND  IDEALS  : — THE  BEGINNINGS  OF  ART — THE 
FESTIVAL  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  THE  FORM  AND  SPIRIT  OF  CLASSI¬ 
CAL  ART — MEDIAEVAL  FLORENCE  AND  HER  PAINTERS.  Part  II. — 
THE  FORMAL  CONDITIONS  OF  ARTISTIC  EXPRESSION:  — SOME 
ELEMENTS  OF  EFFECT  IN  THE  ARTS  OF  FORM — THE  WORK  OF 

ART  AS  SIGNIFICANT - THE  WORK  OF  ART  AS  BEAUTIFUL. 

Part  III. - THE  ARTS  OF  FORM  : — ARCHITECTURAL  BEAUTY  IN 

RELATION  TO  CONSTRUCTION — THE  CONVENTIONS  OF  SCULPTURE 
- PAINTING  OLD  AND  NEW. 

The  whole  field  of  the  fine-arts  of  painting,  sculpture  and 
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considering  art  as  the  expression  of  popular  feelings  and  ideas — 
a  most  original  investigation  of  the  origin  and  development  of 
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in  their  theory  and  practice  and  giving  a  luminous  exposition  of 
the  significance  of  the  great  historic  movements  in  architecture, 
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THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL 

Being  the  Outlines  of  the  History  of  Aesthetics.  By 
William  Knight,  Professor  of  Philosophy  in  the 
University  of  St.  Andrews.  i2mo,  $1.00,  net. 

CONTENTS  —  INTRODUCTORY  —  PREHISTORIC  ORIGINS  — 
ORIENTAL  ART  AND  SPECULATION — THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE 


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— THE  NEOPLATONISTS — THE  GRAECO-ROMAN  PERIOD — MEDIAE- 
VALISM  —  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GERMANY  —  OF  FRANCE  —  OF 
ITALY — OF  HOLLAND — OF  BRITAIN — OF  AMERICA. 

Not  content  with  presenting  an  historical  sketch  of  past  opin¬ 
ion  and  tendency  on  the  subject  of  the  Beautiful,  Prof.  Knight 
shows  how  these  philosophical  theories  have  been  evolved,  how 
they  have  been  the  outcome  of  social  as  well  as  of  intellectual 
causes,  and  have  often  been  the  product  of  obscure  phenomena 
in  the  life  of  a  nation.  Thus  a  deep  human  interest  is  given  to 
his  synopsis  of  speculative  thought  on  the  subject  of  Beauty  and 
to  his  analysis  of  the  art  school  corresponding  to  each  period 
from  the  time  of  the  Egyptians  down  to  the  present  day.  He 
traces  the  sequence  of  opinion  in  each  country  as  expressed  in  its 
literature  and  its  art  works,  and  shows  how  doctrines  of  art  are 
based  upon  theories  of  Beauty,  and  how  these  theories  often  have 
their  roots  in  the  customs  of  society  itself. 


ENGLISH  COLONIZATION  AND  EMPIRE 

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bridge.  i2mo,  with  Maps  and  Diagrams,  $1.00, 
net. 

CONTENTS — PIONEER  PERIOD — INTERNATIONAL  struggle 
— DEVELOPMENT  AND  SEPARATION  OF  AMERICA — THE  ENGLISH 
IN  INDIA — RECONSTRUCTION  AND  FRESH  DEVELOPMENT — GOV¬ 
ERNMENT  OF  THE  EMPIRE — TRADE  AND  TRADE  POLICY — SUPPLY 
OF  LABOR — NATIVE  RACES — EDUCATION  AND  RELIGION — GEN¬ 
ERAL  REFLECTIONS — BOOKS  OF  REFERENCE. 

The  diffusion  of  European,  and,  more  particularly,  of  English, 
civilization  over  the  face  of  the  inhabited  and  habitable  world  is 
the  subject  of  this  book.  The  treatment  of  this  great  theme  covers 
the  origin  and  the  historical,  political,  economical  and  ethnological 
development  of  the  English  colonies,  the  moral,  intellectual,  in¬ 
dustrial  and  social  aspects  of  the  question  being  also  considered. 
There  is  thus  spread  before  the  reader  a  bird’s-eye  view  of  the 
British  colonies,  great  and  small,  from  their  origin  until  the  present 
time,  with  a  summary  of  the  wars  and  other  great  events  which 
have  occurred  in  the  progress  of  this  colonizing  work,  and  with 
a  careful  examination  of  some  of  the  most  important  questions, 
economical,  commercial  and  political,  which  now  affect  the  rela¬ 
tion  of  the  colonies  and  the  parent  nation.  The  maps  and  dia¬ 
grams  are  an  instructive  and  valuable  addition  to  the  book. 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  FRANCE. 

By  H.  G.  Keene,  Hon.  M.A.  Oxon.  i2mo.  $1.00,  net. 

Contents:  Introduction.  —  The  Age  of  Infancy  (a.  Birth) — The  Age  o” 
infancy  (b.  Growth)  —  The  Age  of  Adolescence  (Sixteenth  Century)  —  The  Age 
of  Glory,  Part  I.  Poetry,  etc.  — The  Age  of  Glory,  Part  II.  Prose  — The  Age  of 
Reason,  Part  I.  — The  Age  of  Reason,  Part  II.  — The  Age  of  ‘Nature’  — 
Sources  of  Modern  French  Literary  Art:  Poetry  —  Sources  of  Prose  Fiction  — 
Appendix  —  Index. 


French  literature  from  the  beginnings  of  the  nation  down  to  our  own  times 
exclusive  of  living  authors,  is  the  broad  field  covered  by  Mr.  Keene’s  survey! 

ith  so  large  a  subject,  his  aim  has  necessarily  been  to  preserve  a  proper  per¬ 
spective  and  give  a  correct  general  view,  and  his  success  in  this  is  eminent.  The 
reader  obtains  a  conception  of  the  literature  of  France  as  a  whole,  and  of  the 

wWe  rT>tndK?UtUa  atTS  ?f  US  vanous  schools  and  stages  which  is  not  else- 
i  thJtw.V  Td’  though,  of  course,  a  detailed  account  of  all  French  authors 
and  their  works  has  not  been  attempted.  As  the  table  of  contents  shows  the 
subject  has  been  considered  logically  rather  than  treated  as  a  topic  for  mere 
chronicle,  and  the  chapters  on  the  sources  of  the  French  prose  fiction  and  poetry 

in  arG  thAl°Ut-hly  on§inal  ln  a  work  of  the  kind  without  being 

in  the  least  arbitrary  Mr.  Keene  has,  indeed,  been  very  happy  in  avoiding 

dogmatism,  and  in  refraining  from  obtruding  “  his  own  opinions,  even  of  past 
writers,  to  quote  from  his  preface,  has  given  his  book  the  air  of  authority  and 
impersonality  which  is  so  valuable  in  a  work  whose  main  purpose  is  educational. 


THE  REALM  OF  NATURE. 


An  OuUme  °f  Physiography.  By  Hugh  Robert  Mill, 
D.Sc.  Edm. ;  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Edinburgh; 
Oxford  University  Extension  Lecturer.  With  19  coloured 
maps  and  68  illustrations.  i2mo.  $1.50 ,  net. 


Contents:  The  Story  of  Nature  —  The  Substance  of  Nature  —  Energy  the 
Power  of  Nature -The  Earth  a  Spinning  Ball -The  Earth  a  Planet- The  Solar 
System  and  Universe  -  The  Atmosphere  -  Atmospheric  Phenomena  -  Climates 
of  the  World  — The  Hydrosphere  —  The  Bed  of  the  Oceans  — The  Crust  of  the 
Earth —  Action  of  Water  on  the  Land  — The  Record  of  the  Rocks  — The  Conti¬ 
nental  Area— Life  and  Living  Creatures  —  Man  in  Nature  —  Appendices — 
Index. 


Jhis  ?£Ppily  entitled  volume  treats  of  the  place  of  physical  science  in  the 
1  of-human  knowledge,  and  shows  the  relations  to  each  other  of  the  various 
specia  sciences.  Much  the  larger  part  of  the  book  is  devoted  to  a  description  - 
m  outline  of  necessity,  but  admirably  luminous -of  the  facts  regarding  “the 
tKS11?  °f  th£-  Ymuersv’  the  *???»  material>  and  processes  of  the  Earfh,  and 
ereat  Y^A  ^  -ar  t0  L/«  .ln  *ts  varied  phases.”  Professor  Mill  has  a 

Fwf  f?  °f-!UCld  exPpsition,  and  his  book  is  as  clear  as  it  is  comprehensive. 
Considering  its  range  it  is  a  masterpiece  of  compression.  The  nineteen  mans 
wnrk^h  7  compiled  by  J.  G.  Bartholomew,  the  eminent  cartographer.  The 
fessor  N  S  reference  to  the  use  of  American  students  by  Pro- 

tions  frn'mS;£h  ^  f°frHarVarr  VmAversity>  wh«  has  supplied  occasional  illustra¬ 
tions  Irom  the  point  of  view  of  the  American  physiographer. 


UNIVERSITY  EXTENSION  MANUALS 


IN  PREPARATION 


By  C.  E.  Malley,  Balliol 


ANIMAL  LIFE.  By  T.  Arthur  Thomson, 
University  of  Edinburgh.  ’ 

THROMAN^  B^VEAN?BFRsoIH0^1^eEg^x1„rdAND  THE 
TBllHoICElfg“  OrfoTi  °F  ETH,CS-  B>"  J°H»  H-  Muirhead, 

OUTLINES  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE.  By  William 

Renton,  University  of  St.  Andrews.  3 

SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  PREDECESSORS  IN  thp 
ENGLISH  DRAMA.  By  F.  s!  BoAsBaniolCollefe,OxfoTd  E 

THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

College,  Oxford. 

L°M,L?o,^v°V,.?Tf,Ybid^D  DEDUCT.VE.  By  W.euam 

TH^ng^i?iIg°RcTmb?,dFeASTRONOMY-  B>' 

T  HSO  NN  GBv  ItifefI(eF<STE:™DFAR m  E  D^„Y“ 

ENIohn9'Ty  ^  NATURE,  An  Introduction  to  Physical  Science.  By 
John  Cox,  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  y 

OUTLINES  OF  MODERN  BOTANY.  By  Prof.  Patrick 
Geddes,  University  College,  Dundee, 

THCEmbdd^eOBEAN  POETS-  %  Edmund  Gosse,  Trinity  College, 

c^tP  the  history  of  EDUCATION 

By  Prof.  Simon  S.  Laurie,  University  of  Edinburgh 
BRKTCSLh>KD?S1INION  IN  ,NDIA‘  By  Sir  Alfred  Lyall, 

THSlS"fG^"™  ®rESN®Ef;ss,Bkysr,olog“S 
COS^An/dRwsTIVE  REUGION-  By  Prof.  Menzies,  University  of 

THW/fLT^RIS«^0'TT^ELp  Fp°fMT>ITS  ORIGIN  TO  SIR 

LiverpoTlER  SCOTT>  By  Prof.  Raleigh,  University  College, 

STSffl|RN  GEOLOGY.  By  Dr.  R.  D. Roberts, 

F  R^m,E^ Sei^ir  Studen^of  CKm^t^hurch  ABcfor  dl^  G  M  Y.  By  M.  E. 
PSSEYCU,2eL°>CoY 5,.A „d”  wS5TO R 1 C A L  SKETCH.  By  Prof. 
MEbnd^ ^  N  ,CS*  By  Prof.  James  Stuart,  M.  P.,  Trinity  College,  Cam- 


CRITICAL  NOTICES  OF  THE  SERIES 


"The  series  of  manuals,  of  which  these  are  the  initial  volumes,  can 
but  prove  a  most  valuable  one.” —  Boston  Traveller. 

"We  are  impressed  with  the  merits  and  general  thoroughness  of  the 
‘  University  Extension  Manuals.’  ”  —  The  Independent. 

"  They  are  admirable  condensations  of  the  best  thought  upon  the 
several  subjects,  and  will  be  eagerly  sought,  not  only  by  scholars,  but 
by  the  general  reader  as  works  of  reference.”  —  Boston  Transcript. 

“The  Manuals  are  intended  rather  as  aids  to  education  than  for 
purposes  of  general  information.  The  two  which  have  so  far  appeared 
are  admirably  adapted  for  that  end.”  —  Charleston  News  and  Courier. 

"  It  [‘  The  Fine  Arts  ’]  may  be  recommended  as  an  eminently  clear 
and  sound  brief  statement  of  the  aims  and  conditions  of  art,  especially 
in  the  three  forms  of  architecture,  sculpture,  and  painting.”  —  N.Y. 
Eve?iing  Post. 

“  This  series  promises  to  be  one  of  the  most  valuable  sets  of  educa¬ 
tional  books  yet  projected.  The  selections  for  it  are  made  with  singu¬ 
larly  good  judgment,  and  the  volumes  make  not  only  a  set  of  important 
‘  texts,’,  but  solid  additions  to  literature.”  —  Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

“  The  series  promises  to  be  a  very  useful  and  attractive  set  of  books. 
The  name  explains  itself,  and  the  idea  of  a  further  widening  of  the 
extension  movement  by  supplying  students  with  authorized  books  for 
reference  and  detailed  study  is  one  heartily  to  be  commended.”  — 
Hartford  Courant. 

"The  scope  of  these  Manuals  is  very  broad,  —  and  the  old  college 
man,  who  has  forgotten  much  that  he  studied,  will  be  interested  and 
profited  if  he  takes  up  this  series  of  booklets;  while  to  the  young  men, 
especially  those  whom  circumstances  will  not  allow  to  take  a  collegiate 
course,  but  who  are  anxious  for  a  collegiate  education,  the  series  is 
invaluable.” — Cincinnati  Conimercial  Gazette. 

“  It  is  evident  from  the  volumes  already  published,  and  from  the 
announcements  of  others  to  come,  that  the  series  of  ‘University  Exten¬ 
sion  Manuals’  is  to  be  one  of  the  most  significant  educational  enter¬ 
prises  ever  undertaken  in  this  country.  The  subjects  treated,  the  names 
of  the  writers  who  have  been  induced  to  co-operate  in  the  work,  and 
the  well-known  qualifications  of  Prof.  William  Knight,  who  is  the  respon¬ 
sible  editor  of  the  series,  —  all  unite  to  inspire  confidence  in  the  high 
character  of  this  scheme  for  providing  a  sound  and  trustworthy  system 
of  popular  instruction  which  shall  at  once  appeal  to  the  unlearned  by 
the  simplicity  and  directness  of  its  aim,  and  to  the  cultivated  by  fresh¬ 
ness  and  originality  of  method.”  —  Boston  Beacon. 


DATE  DUE 

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DEMCO  38-297 

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